My parents were many things tyrants, rulers, notoriously overprotective but subtle? Never.
So, when they informed me at breakfast that today's training would be "significantly advanced," it hardly came as a surprise. Sylvithra had a suspiciously bright smile, and Verania had been quietly chuckling into her morning tea. Clearly, something sinister was in the air, but I'd learned long ago that questioning their decisions rarely ended well.
At least today I had company. Smaug perched defiantly on my shoulder, occasionally glaring at passing servants as if they personally insulted his draconic dignity.
[Your dragon is sulking again.]
"Not my fault he underestimated toddlers," I muttered, earning a tiny puff of smoke aimed at my cheek.
Sylvithra turned toward me, her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and expectation. "Today, my dear, we're finally putting away your training swords."
