Marco's POV
"What are you doing, Marco?" my father asked the moment I stepped into the dining hall. He and my mother were already seated, and Cassian rested comfortably in my arms while we waited for Lara to come down from upstairs.
I frowned at him. "What do you mean?"
"I'm talking about Lara." His tone softened slightly, but his eyes stayed sharp. "I saw you this morning. Don't you think it's a little early to train her?"
I let out a quiet sigh and shifted Cassian on my hip. "Dad, Lara needs to know how to defend herself."
He raised one eyebrow, the way he always did when he thought I was being stubborn or refusing to see something obvious. "She does, yes. But there are ways far more effective than making her run five kilometers before breakfast, and you know that."
I clenched my jaw. "I won't force Lara into anything. We haven't talked about it yet."
