Mina laughed, crunching the stone beneath her feet as she jumped down from the ledge. Her cloak billowed with wind as she fell a few paces ahead of Harold—who promptly took two cautious steps away from her, his face whitening like he'd caught sight of a ghost.
Her purple eyes glinted with annoyance as she smoothed herself into order, dark tresses cascading over her shoulder. She wasn't gazing at Harold, however; she was looking at Aithur, who slouched there in a relaxed position, his sword flashing the sunlight in bright, silvery glints that skittered across the air.
Well, well, well." Mina started, her voice full of sarcasm as she clapped slowly and deliberately. The sound rebounded off the vacant courtyard. "The Grand Duke, or the Empire's strongest magician, is really employing a sword?" Her mouth smiled with a mischievous grin. "How cute. So the gossip that you've been keeping away from magic in recent times prove to be true after all.
