Oliver sheathed his sword and stretched his shoulders, watching the knights move. Then he turned toward the second carriage, where Isolde was lounging by the window like she hadn't a care in the world. The faint moonlight reflected off her pale skin, giving her an almost ethereal glow. She looked more like a noblewoman at a summer villa than a mage in the middle of a monster-infested forest.
"You could've at least pretended to help," Oliver said, walking up to her.
Isolde tilted her head, smiling faintly. "If I had intervened, how would you have tested your new body?"
"Maybe so," he muttered, crossing his arms. "But you could've helped the knights. A few almost died."
"They handled it," she replied calmly. "Barely, but still. It's good for them — keeps their pride intact. Besides," she added with a smirk, "If they had watched their mouth before spouting nonsense then I might have considered helping."
He sighed. "Sometimes, you really like watching people suffer, don't you?"
