Eleanor had only just finished mopping the floors. They were drying as light poured in through the open curtains. Duncan made his way downstairs, wandering across the stones. Bravery flooded her, along with a feeling of fury. Her eyes hardened.
“Not here, boy. You turn right around and go back the same way, thank you very much,” Eleanor said, straight-faced.
There was a flicker of surprise in Duncan’s eyes. “Excuse me?”
Alistair was crossing a hallway in the distance. When he heard raised voices, he froze. His brows arched in bewilderment, eyes gone wide as he wandered over to watch the exchange. He was poised for something to go terribly wrong, a hand twitching at his side.
“Yeah,” quipped Eleanor, “you heard me. I just cleaned these floors. Turn your sour, angry face away from mine and head in the opposite direction. I’m sorry but the floors are still wet. Go, shoo.”
Alistair laughed at her audacity, unable to help himself. They shared a look of amusement as Duncan swiftly passed him. He waited, listening to the sound of retreating footsteps before poking his head into the room, careful not to tread on the wet floor.
“That was rather courageous of you,” he teased lightly.
“Yeah, well,” she sighed. “He drives me insane. Some things never change. I hated him back then, and I still do now.”
He paused, head tilted. “You know,” he began, “I think you might just be the bravest one in this entire castle. You’re right, some things never do change.”
