“And our guild is always ever so glad to oblige,” Ofelia said. “A bunch of attention-getters, all. Alys could probably regale you for a few hours alone.” Tales to make a sheltered young noble blush. And it was true enough, anyhow – the thieves did have silver tongues as much as a taste for silver itself. “I believe I heard that you’re a fighter?”
“I will have to ask her if she has any… interesting stories.” They would be spending… quite a bit of time together very soon, after all. How would she fill all that silence? The thought set butterflies to fluttering in her stomach.
At the next question, Juliette nodded, grateful for the offer of this new topic. She had been enough at a loss to consider discussing the weather. This, however, was fairly comfortable territory. “A squire,” she confirmed. “I will attempt my class exam in the spring.” Unlike Storm, she did not come from a family of fighters – aside from her paternal grandfather, provided what she had been told was true – but of all the things done by the Demiels, she was grateful for this one: her enrollment had saved her from a life too dull to contemplate. And now that she would never see a gil of her parents’ money – not that she had wanted it in the first place – she was doubly glad that she might have some marketable skill that would allow her, perhaps, to take her time before she had to choose an appropriate husband.
Unless Alys told her otherwise. What did Alys think of all of this? She understood that her sister thought a girl who was the next thing to a child should not have to marry, and was appropriately grateful for this conviction, but she doubted such would still be the case once she passed twenty.
And that… was a series of thoughts far too complex to mull over in the presence of another person.
“In the spring! Well then. All the best of luck to you. It’s a thrilling time, making your first class.” The bard was all genteel warmth and this time she finally eased off, letting her curiosity ebb back to a low simmer. It was enough. She’d seen enough of Juliette to satisfy, and so she gave another little bob, a gesture of farewell. An acknowledgment.
“It was a pleasure meeting you. And my congratulations, again, on this reunion.” And as smoothly as she’d emerged from the crowd, Ofelia sank back into it, her job done.
“Thank you, madam.” A nod of her head accompanied the thanks. “The pleasure was mine.” And it was true – of the Bards’ Guild members who were not also nobility, this woman had been one of the most pleasant she had met this evening. It helped that she had managed not to make a fool of herself with at least this one new acquaintance. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” She smiled, faintly but sincerely, as the older woman went on her way.