Lucavion allowed her question to remain unanswered for several breaths.
"Have you still failed to learn how one speaks to a woman properly?"
The smile across his face stayed light, almost lazy, yet Isolde watched his eyes instead. They had narrowed by the smallest degree, enough to suggest that he understood the invitation hidden inside her words.
She had touched the old pattern.
Now she wanted to see what he built around it.
His gaze drifted toward the painted constellations overhead.
"Perhaps my earliest examples were somewhat misleading."
A girl two desks away lowered her face toward her examination notice.
Her shoulders moved once.
She was suppressing a laugh.
Isolde understood why.
To anyone listening, Lucavion had merely blamed his poor manners upon some unfortunate early acquaintance with women. An audacious answer, perhaps even flirtatious in its implication, but harmless enough.
The meaning intended for Isolde carried a different edge.
You shaped part of this.
