The clock tower struck four as Noah leaned against the corner of a stone building near the city's main plaza, arms crossed, red eyes scanning the cobbled street.
White hair. Blue eyes. Late again.
"There you are," he said flatly as Cordelia came into view, practically bouncing on her heels.
"Relax, I'm only ten minutes late. That's practically early by noble standards."
"You're not a noble. You're just annoying."
"And you're still boring," she shot back, stopping in front of him with a grin. "So… ready to hit the books?"
"I was born ready," Noah muttered. "You're the one who—"
"Oh look," she interrupted, pointing at a colorful storefront down the street. "That bakery's got new chocolate-glazed honey tarts. We should stop. Just for a look."
Noah followed her finger with his eyes. "You don't 'look' at tarts, Cordelia. You inhale them."
She ignored the jab and was already halfway toward the shop before he could finish his sentence. He sighed and followed, shaking his head.
