Alaric reached out steadily to the woman who stepped back, but his hand froze mid-air when Lara regained her balance.
"Your Highness," Peredur greeted the prince with a slight bow, his tone respectful yet edged with surprise. "What brings you here?"
Prince Alaric's gaze flicked to the young Norse scholar. "Peredur, what a coincidence," he replied smoothly, his gaze shifted to the young woman who had just stumbled into him, her cheeks flushed a soft crimson.
"I am accompanying my sister," Peredur explained, glancing between them. "She wished to visit a metal smith."
Alaric raised an eyebrow, his expression sharp with curiosity. "A metal smith? Are you looking for something, Lady Lara?" His tone was formal, polished, but there was an undercurrent of familiarity that did not go unnoticed. "By the way, I didn't get the chance earlier to congratulate you on receiving the Medal of Valor—and your father's new title as Marquis. Quite the achievements."
