Dila glanced back at the clashing swords on the training grounds, her blue eyes glinting with mischief.
"You know what...?" she said, tilting her head toward Stella.
"Maybe I should try holding a sword for once. Not just in games."
Stella blinked, confused.
"Games...? What do you mean by games?"
Dila flinched, realizing her slip.
She waved a hand nonchalantly.
"Oh—nothing, nothing. I mean, like... just testing what it feels like. Y'know, for educational purposes."
Stella narrowed her eyes, unconvinced.
Then she gasped dramatically and pointed at Dila.
"No! Dila, you'll break your arms and snap your wrists!"
She stomped over, poking Dila in the arm.
"Look at you! You're soft like a premium marshmallow. You're not built for this. You're royalty. A delicate flower!"
"Princess, Sister Stella is right..." the maid chimed in nervously from the side, clutching the juice tray like it was a sacred relic.
