A month. Just one month until the Traditional Medicine Conference. Elder Harding's words echoed in my mind as I paced the floor of my hotel room.
"I need to be better," I muttered, running a hand through my disheveled hair. "Much better."
The conference wasn't just an opportunity—it was my chance to prove myself worthy of the knowledge that had been gifted to me. More than that, it was a way to show Isabelle that I could stand among the elite. That I could be someone she deserved.
My thoughts drifted to her face, elegant and beautiful, those eyes that seemed to see right through me. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since our last meeting.
A knock at my door jolted me from my reverie.
"Enter," I called out.
Roman Volkov's massive frame filled the doorway. "Mr. Knight, it's dawn. The morning market opens soon, as you requested."
I nodded, grateful for his punctuality. "Thank you, Roman. I'll be ready in five minutes."
