Sometimes Serena forgets.
Layla is not royalty nor is she one of the nobility. She is the daughter of a soldier, one of the city guard.
But that doesn’t mean she is uneducated. Her father insisted that he and her siblings attend the local academies no matter the cost.
According to Layla, he’s always believed the path to self-improvement lay in a proper education.
Though that doesn’t explain why Serena keeps finding her lover with her nose buried in those… those obscene pieces of trashy romance that can barely be called stories, much less novels. They are the only thing Layla will read by her own choice, as raunchy and explicit as they are.
Poorly written, too, which if you ask Serena is the greater sin.
“You’re just jealous you can’t come up with a line as epic as this,” Layla says, sticking out her tongue. “My nethers quivered with tumescent desire, soaked in the honey of my longing. I–”
“Enough!” Serena laughs. “Please enough. My brain is bleeding out of my ears.”
“Elitist,” Layla teases.
“Only because I have a sense of taste,” Serena retorts.