"Couldn't he have at least assigned Ingrid to me?" Felix asked, frustrated as he stared into a standing mirror leaning against the wall in the upper guest rooms of the Duke's Tower.
The knight tugged at the finely tailored clothing he was wearing, entirely unaccustomed to such wares. He found it stifling. If someone were to attack him while he was wearing it, there was a likelihood he wouldn't be able to defend himself, much less have the flexibility to even swing his sword.
He raised his arms, causing the material to strain.
"It's as I feared," he continued. "I'll have to rip through this entire thing if something bad happens."
Irene stood in the doorway, leaning against the threshold with her arms crossed over her chest.
"Quit crying like a baby," she urged. "At least you won't be forced into a dress like I certainly will be. My mother has already written me a letter saying that she looks forward to seeing me, and I can only assume what that means."
