The patio overlooked the entire training courtyard below, built from white stone and adorned with hanging vines and morning lilies. From here, the women looked like ants—but not idle ones. A storm of motion thundered below as dozens of armored female knights sparred, sprinted, roared, and swung blades as if their very lives depended on it. Sweat gleamed on bronzed skin, muscles flexed, and some even exaggerated their movements in full dramatic flair.
Because today wasn't just another drill.
The Crown Princess herself was watching from above, her violet gaze quietly judging. And right beside her sat Lady Marianne Blake, the matriarch they served. So of course, the pressure was immense.
But truthfully?
Most of them were only half-focused on their war idol.
Their eyes kept drifting—stealing glances at the real centerpiece of the Blake estate.
Adam Blake.
