The day dragged on far longer than Amelia had anticipated.
From the bustling kitchens, where Julies exchanged light banter with the cooks, to the stables, where he inspected the horses with a discerning eye, he remained composed — maddeningly so.
Not once did he stumble over his words, lose his temper, or even appear flustered. Every interaction was smooth, precise, and courteous, like a well-polished blade that revealed nothing of the steel beneath.
Amelia trailed at his side, her fan hiding both her faint scowl and the restless tapping of her fingers. She had expected arrogance — perhaps the kind of overconfidence that made lesser men slip. But no. Julies was… disciplined.
Too disciplined.
They stopped briefly by the armory. Julies tested the balance of a practice sword before setting it back into the rack with care. His motions were fluid, efficient — but lacking the self-satisfaction she could have exploited.
