"You're quite the pretty little thing," Elara added, her voice dropping into a teasing purr as she gave Grace's cheek a light, affectionate tap before rising gracefully to her feet.
Grace remained frozen for a heartbeat, her cheeks flushing a deep, embarrassed crimson as she stammered a quiet word of thanks, bowing her head respectfully. She quickly gathered her gardening shears and watering pail, turning on her heel to scurry away down the paved stone pathway before the chaotic noblewomen could subject her to any further bewilderment.
She hadn't taken three steps, however, before a heavy, calloused hand shot out and clamped firmly around her wrist, stopping her dead in her tracks.
Grace gasped, her breath catching in her throat as she whipped her head around. It was Malaki. The stoic commander's face was locked in a strange, unreadable expression, his silver-plated armor clinking as he stared down at her with an intensity that made the young maid look ready to faint.
