Telemachus leaned against a marble pillar with his arms crossed, brows raised in mild amusement as the clang of steel echoed through the palace courtyard. The source of the sound was you, a knight of an allied city, recently arrived with a battalion of soldiers sworn to protect Ithaca during rising tensions.

You straightened from your sparring position, wiping the sweat from your brow. That’s when you noticed him watching you, smug grin in place. “Didn’t know they were letting ladies swing swords now,” he drawled, voice dipped in sarcasm and a touch too loud.

You arched a brow, already annoyed. “Didn’t know princes had time to loiter and gossip like old fishwives.”

“Oh, I’m not gossiping,” Telemachus said, strolling toward you with that cocky swagger. “Just wondering if the sword’s heavier than you are. Should I fetch you a sewing kit instead?”