Eloisa was silenced.
Duke Conner looked down at his son—wide-eyed, silent, still clutching the hem of his tunic. Then at Lara, who stood not with deference, but with integrity. Her jaw set, her back straight, her hand resting on the hilt of her waster sword, still stained with the dust from her duel.
"You'll take over his training," the Duke said at last. "Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."
Eloisa's face turned pale with fury. "Connor—"
"My decision is final."
The Duchess took a breath, nostrils flaring, but said nothing more. She turned away, skirts whipping behind her as she walked back toward the castle
The knights and squires were silent, eyes fixed on Lara.
Jansen still knelt, trembling. He dared not rise.
Connor approached him slowly. "You're relieved of your duties," he said coldly. "Return your weapons. You will leave this estate before sundown."
Jansen didn't argue. He merely bowed his head deeper, too humiliated to speak.
