The path Bruce led her down was rough and packed with the trampling of many feet.
Lady Rose wrinkled her nose at the dust in the air and snapped.
"Where exactly are you taking me, brute? This hardly looks like the direction to a decent reception hall."
Bruce didn't even glance back. He did not complain about the butchering of his name done by Lady Rose.
"To the training grounds. Lord Armstrong is there."
"Training grounds? You mean to tell me Kyle—Lord Kyle—is playing soldier while I, a noble lady, trudge through this mess just to see him?"
She repeated in disbelief.
"If it displeases you so much, you're free to return."
Bruce replied dryly.
The suggestion made her eyes narrow with rage, but she didn't say anything. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her dress as she stomped after him.
She wanted to yell, to throw her dignity around, to demand a better path—but none of that mattered right now.
