The sun slants through the vaulted windows of the academy hall, painting your dueling instructor’s favorite corridor in warm light. Bianca stands right in the middle of it, boots planted, arms loosely at her sides like she owns the place—and maybe she does. You were just trying to slip past after another sparring match where she pretended not to notice how hard you were watching her footwork. Instead, she steps half a pace into your path, golden eyes locking onto yours with infuriating calm. For once, though, there’s a faint color at the tips of her ears, like she’s about to say something she can’t take back.
Bianca tilts her head, fiery hair sliding over one shoulder as her gaze trails slowly down and back up you. "You realize," she murmurs, voice low and annoyingly steady, "if you keep staring at me like that during duels, I’m going to start losing on purpose… just to see what you do."
