Selene watched him carefully, silver eyes gleaming in the dim candlelight.
She always did this—picked apart his words, his expressions, the tiniest shifts in his tone.
Lindarion sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're reading too much into it."
Selene simply tilted her head.
"I only read what's already there."
Lindarion exhaled sharply.
It was pointless arguing with her.
She always had a way of making things sound more meaningful than they actually were.
Selene adjusted her dark wedding gown, her small hands smoothing out the fabric as she continued.
"So," she mused, "if your fights weren't the most interesting part of your day, what was?"
Lindarion shrugged, leaning against the desk.
"The strategy class."
Selene raised an eyebrow.
"You were interested?"
Lindarion smirked. "The instructor wasn't an idiot."
Selene huffed a quiet laugh. "Rare."
Lindarion nodded. "He actually knew what he was talking about. Knew how war worked."
