Adelia didn’t speak for a moment, eyes scanning the crowd even as her hand gripped the items Eliot had passed off to her, the weight a welcome distraction to the simmering heat that still lingered in her chest. “That man was practically salivating,” she muttered, more to herself than to him, her words clipped as she adjusted the small bundle in her arms. “I don’t know whether I should pity or punch him.”

Her tone was tart, but not angry just..sharp. Frustrated. Which was, in and of itself, ridiculous. Why should she care what some puffed-up noble said? Eliot could handle himself. He was witty, clever, endlessly capable of defusing attention with a smile or a dry remark. And yet the moment that oversized idiot had stepped into his space, her blood had prickled hot beneath her skin. Maybe it was the audacity. Maybe it was that the man had dared to speak about Eliot like he was a thing to be plucked. Like Adelia herself wasn’t right there.

She didn’t realize her grip had tightened around a delicate woven bracelet someone had gifted Eliot until the little silver bell attached to it gave a pitiful crunch. “..Oops,” she cringed, holding it up. “Sorry..I don't know what's gotten over me. I think that idiot rubbed off on me.”

She glanced sidelong at him, hoping to lighten the strange tension building between them, but Eliot looked so pleased, so genuinely full of life, that it stole her breath for a moment. He was smiling, cheeks flushed from the attention, his arms full of trinkets and bright things like he was born to be adored. And the worst part? He looked good. [i]Too good.[/i]

Adelia averted her gaze quickly. “We’ll bring a page next time,” she said, voice returning to something brisk. “Or three. A whole entourage. We’ll parade through the square like we’re twice as important.”

She moved to step around a particularly wide merchant cart, lifting the edge of her cloak slightly to avoid catching it. As she did, she tossed another glance over her shoulder at Eliot, narrowing her eyes just enough to feign suspicion. “But if another Lord tries to swoon at your feet, I reserve the right to joust him on the spot. Dress or no dress.”

And with that, she strode ahead, her chin lifted high and pace just a touch faster as though daring him to catch up.