The chamber was a storm of shouted orders and scrambling movement, but within the eye of that storm, time fractured.
Kaelen stood close. Not the casual proximity of a rescuer, but the intimate, encompassing nearness of a shield. His body was angled, a solid barricade of fur, leather, and muscle between the space where the shadow had died and me. The residual cold from his sword still clung to him, a palpable aura of winter that cut through the dust-choked air. His broad shoulders blocked my view of the alarmed knights, the frantic professors, and the panicked students. In that moment, my world contracted to the dark weave of his cloak, the stark line of his jaw, and the overwhelming, familiar sense of being covered.
The protective stance was identical.
