"Have you ever practiced swordplay before, my lady?"
Lyra turned to ask as they made their way through the corridors, heading toward the sparring grounds where the earth was bathed in warm golden sunlight.
Rosalind gave a gentle nod. "A little... when I was a child."
There was a pause. A shadow of something old, perhaps even sacred, flickered behind her eyes.
And just like that, a flicker of memory swept her back to those distant days of youth.
She had been only eight or nine years old then.
That small and timid girl often hid behind the large wooden gate, peeking into the training yard where her older sister Amara sparred with General Julian and their uncle, Magnus.
Amara had been merely fourteen at the time, yet already skilled enough to earn the admiration of seasoned swordsmen from across the empire.
