The next day, Lumberling waited beneath the shade of the tall tree by the training grounds, expecting the familiar flash of blue and green from Vaenyra's approach.
Instead, footsteps, measured, calm, and almost too quiet, announced someone else.
He turned and blinked.
Thessalia approached, her long green hair tied back in a loose ribbon, the shade matching her intelligent, emerald eyes. Her figure was sculpted with quiet elegance, graceful curves beneath a modest high-collared robe. Pale skin, long lashes, and a face that looked like it had been chiseled from ivory. Always serious. Always composed. Like someone who weighed every word before letting it pass her lips.
"Hey," he called out, stepping forward.
She looked at him with that calm, unreadable expression. "Good morning."
"No Lady Vaenyra today?"
