Alara looked over the paper he handed her and scanned through the twenty or so books. She had never heard of any of them before, but from the dull and unimaginative names, two of which were simply dates over a hundred years in the past, she didn’t think that any of them would be light reads. “Great,” she said with a bit of sincerity, “I like reading.”
She had fallen into the habit of walking the few uphill miles to Ser Stratford’s manor each morning, carrying on her shoulder a bag that contained a simple lunch and the training clothes she would change into once she was safely beyond the view of the public. The trousers and tight blouse still troubled her to be in, but her teacher had been correct; they did make the exercising easier than the dresses she was accustomed to. Lugging a trunk
