Chapter 87. Spar
At the manor’s courtyard, Liana hangs damp linens to a clothesline, the morning breeze teasing her hair. Nearby, a cluster of maids gossiped, their voices bubbling with curiosity. One leaned in, eyes wide. "So, the Young Lord hasn’t laid a hand on you since the incident?"
Liana’s smile was soft but knowing. "Not even a rude word. He’s a gentleman now." She lowered her voice, a playful glint in her eyes. "Plus, he’s chatting up plenty of girls at the academy."
The maids burst into giggles, one nudging her. "Lucky you! No more of his punishments. We were terrified for you, Liana. Honestly, why’d you stick around after all the awful things he did?"
Liana’s gaze softened, a memory of Duchess Seraphina’s final moments, her frail hand squeezing Liana’s, a promise. "No reason in particular," she said lightly, brushing it off.
A maid sprinted up, interrupting. "Liana! The Young Lord’s about to spar with the soldiers on the training grounds! Everyone’s gathering to watch!"
Liana raised a brow, unfazed. "Oh?"
The other maids exchanged confused glances. "Aren’t you worried?" one asked. "Young lord could get thrashed!"
Liana smirked, hanging another sheet. "Not surprised at all." She turned, her eyes gleaming with confidence. "Wanna make bet? I say Young Master wipes the floor with them."
In the hallway overlooking the training grounds, Vivien peeked out, her auburn curls bouncing as she craned her neck to see the field. Her maid stood behind her, smiling.
A familiar voice called. "Here to watch your brother fight, Vivien?"
She spun around, her face lighting up as Lucian approaching toward her in his wheelchair, pushed by his attendant. She squealed, "Brother!" and bounded over, throwing her arms around him.