Cassian's face filled the display, and even through the screen his presence was unmistakable.
The camera did nothing to soften him; if anything, the close framing emphasized the clean precision of his features and the stillness he carried so effortlessly. He was still in his suit, the jacket structured perfectly along his shoulders, the dark fabric smooth and uncreased as though the day had not dared disturb it.
Mira could see more than just his face.
Behind him stretched a wall of glass that ran from floor to ceiling, revealing a vast cityscape glittering in the night. The skyline rose in layered silhouettes, towers edged in white and gold light, their windows glowing in orderly grids. Far below, traffic moved in steady currents, thin streams of red and white headlights tracing along distant highways like illuminated veins.
The height was evident in the way the city lights appeared slightly diffused, softened by the atmosphere, as though she were looking at a constellation laid carefully beneath him.
"You're late," he said evenly, as though announcing a fact in a boardroom.
Mira adjusted the phone slightly, angling it away from the glare of the morning sun. The estate grounds stretched behind her—stone terrace, trimmed hedges, the faint shimmer of the training path beyond.
"You're early," she countered, glancing at the sky as if to confirm. "Or you forgot what time zones are."
A faint curve appeared at the corner of his mouth. "I forget nothing," he replied.
His gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly as it traveled over her, taking in details she hadn't bothered to announce.
The relaxed set of her shoulders that came only after exertion, the faint flush along her cheekbones, the way she shifted her weight slightly from one leg to the other as though muscles were still unwinding from a run. Even through the screen, the signs were clear to him.
"You were running," he observed calmly.
She exhaled a soft, amused breath. "You're watching too closely."
"Hardly," he replied. "You're predictable."
Before she could retort, his attention shifted slightly as Boreas attempted to squeeze his massive head into the camera frame, clearly determined to be included.
The massive Caucasian Shepherd rose from where he'd been pretending not to eavesdrop and moved directly into frame.
First his ear. Then one enormous amber eye. Then, with absolute determination, his entire head.
The screen filled with fur.
Cassian raised a brow. "I see you've acquired company."
"He invited himself," Mira said, nudging the dog gently when his nose nearly covered the screen. "And he's been very dramatic about it."
Boreas responded with an indignant aw—aw, tail thumping loudly against the stone as if confirming her version was wildly inaccurate.
Cassian's gaze shifted slightly, studying the animal with calm assessment. "He appears territorial."
"He is," Mira replied. "About everything."
Boreas huffed, then attempted to lick the screen.
Mira pulled the phone back just in time. "Absolutely not."
Cassian exhaled something dangerously close to a chuckle.
The sound was quiet. Brief.
But unmistakable.
"Your exam," he said, seamlessly redirecting the conversation as if they had never been discussing jealous dogs and territorial hierarchies.
Mira blinked.
For a second, the word didn't land.
Then her expression shifted—subtle, but real—as the date aligned in her mind.
"That's today," she murmured, more to herself than to him.
"Yes," Cassian replied calmly. "Which is why I'm asking."
She shook her head lightly, amused despite herself. "I forgot," she admitted. "You didn't."
"I never do," he said simply.
She studied his face for a moment longer, as if weighing something unspoken, then glanced back at her phone.
With a few practiced taps, she pulled up the Academy's website, the familiar interface loading more slowly than she would have liked. Boreas, sensing that her attention had shifted entirely away from him, immediately took offense.
He rose, stepped closer, and attempted—once again—to wedge his massive head directly into view, his nose brushing the edge of the screen with what could only be described as deliberate interference.
"Do not," Mira warned mildly, angling the phone away. "This is not about you."
Boreas responded by exhaling loudly onto the screen, fogging the camera for good measure.
Cassian waited without comment, watching the quiet chaos unfold with the same patience he reserved for high-stakes negotiations.
His expression remained unreadable, gaze steady as Mira refreshed the page once… then again.
"Why does it always take longer when it matters?" she muttered.
"Because anticipation sharpens perception," he replied evenly.
She shot him a look, then returned her attention to the screen. Boreas tried one last time to insert himself between her and the phone, earning a gentle but firm nudge aside.
"Stay," she told him.
He stayed—but only after planting himself solidly against her leg, a silent reminder of his presence.
The page finally loaded.
When the results finally appeared, her eyes scanned the screen.
Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. It was the kind of smile that belonged to someone who had never doubted the outcome, only waited for confirmation.
Cassian observed the shift without speaking. He didn't ask for the score. He didn't ask for rankings or commentary. He didn't need to.
The quiet satisfaction that settled into her features told him everything.
Boreas sensed it too, tail giving a single, approving thump against the ground.
"You were exceptional," he said at last, his voice low and assured, carrying certainty rather than praise. "Exactly as I expected."
She lifted a brow. "You say that as if there was no other outcome."
"There wasn't."
She studied him again, searching his face for exaggeration or indulgence—and finding neither.
"You don't sound surprised."
"I'm not."
"Not even a little?"
"No," he said simply.
"You did well," he said again, quieter this time.
She met his gaze through the screen. "I know."
There was no arrogance in it. Just clarity.
The call lingered for a moment longer before ending, leaving Mira standing in the morning light, phone lowered, Boreas pressed solidly at her side.
She glanced down at him, still smiling.
"Looks like you backed the right human," she murmured.
The dog wagged his tail once.
As if it had never been in doubt.