He saw nothing of the bodyguard as days became weeks, and summer at last surrendered to autumn upon the High King’s Seat. At home in Idris, the turning season meant relief from the unbearable heat; but on the Seat, Ebon had found summer pleasant, and now often felt chilled while passing through the granite halls. One day he entered the library for his studies and found Jia sitting at a desk, reading a short letter. He gave her a quick wave, as he always did, but then stopped. Something about her gave him pause. Her face was grave, brows drawn together as she hunched over the letter with worry. He cautiously approached, but Jia did not look up, or seem to notice him at all. Soon he stood at the table, and she had yet to bat an eye. “Instructor Jia?” he said tentatively. “Is everything all right?” She started in her seat and looked up at Ebon. With a quick sigh, she folded the letter and tucked it away in a pocket. “No, it is not,” she said, standing. “Yet it is nothing you need trouble yourself with.
