"Solis…?" Noir asked sleepily, awakened by the absence of the warm body next to him. Receiving no response, he sat up immediately and rubbed his eyes before looking around the room.
There was no sign of his fiancé. There was no noise from the bathroom, either.
Noir jumped up from the bed, threw on a dressing gown and ran downstairs at lightning speed. Solis wasn't downstairs, either.
Anxious, Noir ran out into the garden – and found Solis practising with a sword.
A very familiar sword.
Noir stood stunned for a long time. How on earth had Solis managed to lay his hands on his Master's sword…? And looking at Solis's smooth movements now, Noir could easily see his Master's techniques – after all, Noir himself used them, not to mention he had seen them practically every day for the first eighteen years of his life! But Solis didn't know swordplay at all…and he'd never even shown any inclination to learn, although he enjoyed watching Noir practice.
