Archon Vyra felt a flicker of embarrassment she rarely allowed herself to show. The tight leather pants hung loose at her ankles, her bare feet exposed on the cold stone floor. She had failed twice already to put the boots on properly, the unfamiliar straps and buckles mocking her.
Loen noticed her pause. "Do you need help?"
The words left her mouth before she could stop them. "Yes."
Too fast. Her face flushed. Her own voice betrayed her relief, and she heard the unspoken question in it: Why didn't you offer sooner? She would have been less embarrassed if he had. Now she stood half-dressed in front of him, her pride bruised.
Leon dropped to one knee without a word.
His hands moved with practiced precision. He loosened the boot's laces, undid the leather strap across the ankle, and pulled the opening wide. Then he took her foot gently, his fingers wrapped around her heel.
"Lift your toes," he said.
She did.
