Lyra Cross, a sergeant in the Ashborn Corps, first daughter of the prestigious House Cross.
A disgraced noblewoman disowned by her own family, a girl who had sailed the Devil Sea and survived.
A girl who had also survived the siege and collapse of Drakensmar. Someone who, by all rights, ought to have had legends woven around her, was now caught red-handed doing... doing... what exactly was she doing?
Lugh questioned, his gaze fixed on her lithe figure. Her cheeks were puffed up, clearly having shoved too many things into her mouth at once, and the crumbs of chocolate brown clung to her lips.
"I wovven't shhjh!!!"
"Swallow your food first!"
The voice of the butler broke the silence with startling force. Lugh blinked, taken aback.
Disowned or not, she still carried the bloodline of the Cross family, and it was beyond unusual for a butler to raise his voice to her.
But this butler… He didn't look like a butler at all.
