By evening, Lillia’s waist and shoulders ached in ways she had not known possible. Selene had moved from posture, to walking drills, to balancing with a goblet filled to the brim, spilling more times than she could count.
Then, they moved to turning without letting her hem drag, and finally to sitting and rising with a straight posture that kept Lillia from clutching the chair like a warrior preparing for battle.
“You’re slouching, Lillia. You are not mounting a horse,” Selene cautioned gently, and Lillia unconsciously straightened.
“At this rate, I would start seeing Selene in my dreams.” An exasperated sigh escaped Lillia. “And right now, I honestly would prefer horses, because my body feels terrible.”
Even Maera allowed herself a small laugh at that, as maidens from the Queen’s qua
