Roots Beneath the Crown
The noise of the courtyard still lingered behind them—soldiers dispersing, servants bowing, petals crushed beneath boots—but this moment narrowed into something smaller. More personal.
Rias crossed her arms but couldn't hide the curve of her grin. "You're dismissing us too?"
Leon gave her a look.
It wasn't cold. It wasn't sharp. It was the look of a man who knew exactly what she was doing—and refused to be dragged into it.
"You've been on horseback for days."
Aria brushed a strand of purple hair from her face, violet eyes gleaming with quiet challenge. "And whose fault is that?"
Leon's brow lifted.
"Last I checked," he said calmly, "none of you were chained to a saddle."
"Oh?" Syra tilted her head, green eyes sparkling. "So we chose to follow you across half the continent?"
"You say that like you regret it," Leon replied.
"I say that like you're pretending you didn't enjoy us chasing after you," she shot back.
