Anastasia walked away with Lancelot following a precise three paces behind her. She smiled at the approaching students who tried to offer their own gifts for the Day of Concord, using her practiced royal charm to deflect their advances. Her words were sharp and polite, a polished shield that allowed her to navigate the crowded corridors and quickly reach a deserted balcony overlooking the snow-covered training grounds.
She stopped walking. Lancelot mirrored her movement and stopped at the exact same moment.
Thwack!
Anastasia spun around and slapped Lancelot across the face. The sound echoed off the stone walls of the balcony. Lancelot did not move. He did not flinch. He simply stood there, his platinum hair slightly disheveled by the force of the blow.
"You," Anastasia hissed, her molten amber eyes narrowing until they looked like rings of gold fire. "Why did you exchange words with Vane?"
