[Lavinia's POV—Royal Throne Hall of Doom (okay fine, just the Throne Room)]
"WHAT?!!! SWORD TRAINING?!"
I screamed so loudly that a poor guard outside dropped his spear, tripped on his own foot, and nearly fell down the staircase.
Standing in front of me like a smug brick wall was Ravick, the kingdom's most terrifying walking muscle-tank, while Papa lounged elegantly on his oversized throne like the tyrant he absolutely was.
And me?
I stood there with my hands flailing in the air, dramatically gasping as if someone had just declared bedtime was now 5 p.m. forever.
"But WHY do I need to learn sword, Papa?!" I wailed, throwing in the most pathetic puppy eyes my seven-year-old face could summon. "I am a pitiful, fragile, breakable little flower of a child!"
Behind Ravick, Theon chuckled. Ravick merely smirked, as this was going to be the most entertaining hour of his day. Traitors. All of them.
