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Casimir snaps his fingers. “Stav, you were about to put out a call for a new assistant. Take Ivy on. That gives her every excuse to roam the college.”
I open my mouth to protest, but the former general beats me to it. “Hold on a second. I need an assistant who can actually assist, not some scrawny Slaughterwell street rat.”
Just like that, I’m bristling. “I’ll have you know I could have stabbed you a dozen times already if I wasn’t being nice.”
Stavros snorts. “Maybe you’d like to think so.”
If he had any idea the men twice my size I’ve had to fend off, the aim and reflexes I’ve spent years honing. He’s faced the danger of warfare, sure, but he has no clue what it’s like battling just to stay alive when you have nothing.
Er, Ivy… Julita says. You do remember he’s one of the most celebrated soldiers in the kingdom, right?
Oh, I haven’t forgotten for a second.
“You want to try me?” I retort, my fingers itching for my nearest knife.
A gleam feral enough to be unnerving lights in Stavros’s eyes. “Really? If you insist, I suppose a very brief demonstration could set the matter to rest for everyone. Let’s see you strip first.”
My jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
He flicks his hand to indicate my dress. “No one can fight at their best in a gown. And if we’re doing this, I want to have a look at what kind of muscle you’re working with. So, strip.”
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