"—I am telling you His Grace has already ordered you to do it," Freya repeated, her voice tight with frustration.
Lyon leaned against the stable door, an arrogant expression playing on his face. "And I am telling you I won't! Why don't you try and make me, huh?" His voice boomed, startling the horses, their anxious whinnies adding to the chaos.
Freya exhaled a heavy breath, her patience threadbare. "Please lower your voice and speak like a rational human being—"
"Rational?" Lyon's laugh was harsh and mocking. "Why should I be rational with someone like you?"
Freya's eyebrow shot up, offended. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"
Lyon's eyes narrowed, his sneer deepening. "Do you think I didn't ever see you working at that bar? Before you were all dressed up like a decent lady, you used to be just a barmaid."
Her face hardened.
