The nobleman raised his eyebrows. “You speak brashly, for a girl. What would you know of war?”
A smile played at the corner of Flavia’s lips; it wasn’t a nice smile. “I know if war were to strike this house, I’d be able to run.”
Anger and embarrassment crossed the nobleman’s face. “A true warrior stands his ground!”
“He’s not a warrior if he’s standing because he has not strength to run.”
Master Angelus winced. “Cousin –”
The nobleman dropped his goblet. It clattered on the marble stair. Wine splashed everywhere. The laughter on the other side of the curtain died.
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