“So, Lyria,” Ravelina said, following her into her quarters, “I would like to discuss what happened back there,” she continued as Haribelle followed the two inside and shut the door.
“The contest?” Lyria asked, trying to play innocent. She was dreading explaining to her friends what had happened with King Wolfsblood, and specifically that she had met his son. The jealousy in Ravelina’s eyes was already shooting daggers into the back of her head as she turned to sit herself down on one of her couches.
“Not the contest, Lyria. Why did the Prince know your name?”
To her credit, when Ravelina sat, she made a clear attempt to keep her face neutral, her eyes on Lyria’s face.
Haribelle stared at Lyria with a sort of frank and detached look of curiosity, folding herself into a comfortable, i
