The married woman's lips pressed together. The rebuke stung, but not enough to erase the number still glowing in her mind.
It was a figure so large that it made her chest tight every time she thought of it.
At the same time, Sera finally lifted her head a little and her eyes flicked toward the far end of the corridor before settling back on Julian.
"Young Lord," she said carefully, "perhaps this much noise is unwise. The corridor is not private."
She was right. Footsteps could still be heard from the main hall. Any steward, knight, or supervising attendant could turn the corner and find them in such a mess. But Julian only looked faintly amused by the warning, as though the risk of discovery was simply another form of entertainment.
"They are enthusiastic," he said. "Why interrupt them?"
That only poured oil on the competition.
"Young Lord, I am the prettiest."
"You are not."
"I am the softest."
"I am the tightest."
"I know how to use my mouth better than any of you."
