Rebel
Tamara found three new bruises while she was doing up the back of the dress, and she counted them out loud like a disappointed accountant.
“What happened?”
“Timothy happened.” I shrugged. “We sparred.”
“Sparred?” She looked utterly baffled. “You’ve never sparred a day in your life! The Luna had you excused from training because she thought you were too fragile. You can barely lift a hairbrush.”
She wasn’t wrong. He’d put me on the ground more times than I bothered to count. But I’d made him work for a win he’d expected to get for free. Somewhere in the middle of it the malice had drained out of his eyes and left something more useful behind.
Curiosity.
We hadn’t parted as friends. We’d parted as two people who would have to take each other seriously now, which was better.
Tha
