The sun was barely up, golden light streaking through the canopy as four figures circled the training yard, barefoot on dew-slick grass, wooden weapons in hand.
Lumberling grinned across at Aurelya as they warmed up, his gaze lingering just a second too long.
She noticed.
"What?" she snapped, jabbing her practice sword into the ground. "Why do you keep looking at me like that? It's creepy."
Lumberling tilted his head, still smiling. "So you're a Marquess' spoiled daughter."
Aurelya blinked, caught off guard. "Who told you that?"
"Thessalia," he replied, matter-of-factly, like it was obvious.
Aurelya's eyes darted toward Thessalia. "You told him that?"
Thessalia didn't even blink. "It's not a secret. And I didn't tell him for gossip. I thought he should know what kind of trouble he's dealing with."
"I'm not spoiled," Aurelya muttered, flustered. "I trained with knights. I bled in campaigns."
