The following morning, Sandoz rose before dawn, a thin blue light just beginning to leak across the horizon. The air was cool and heavy with dew, the estate still sleeping beneath layers of silence. He changed swiftly into his training clothes, cinched his belt, and slipped outside toward the grounds.
The courtyard, usually empty at this hour, was already alive with motion.
Lara was on the monkey bars—her silhouette fluid and controlled, a predator in motion. Her arms flexed as she swung and vaulted with the grace of a cat and the force of a soldier. She had insisted they be installed, and Gideon had obeyed. No one denied Lara much these days.
As Sandoz stepped onto the field, she caught sight of him, and without breaking rhythm, somersaulted off the final bar, landing in a crouch before rising in a single breathless motion.
"Ready?" she asked with a half-smile, already tossing him a practice sword.
