Her lips quirked, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

I leaned against an ancient oak table, its surface etched with forgotten runes. “Curiosity,” I replied, my tone matching hers. “Your father is renowned for his magical inventions. I wanted to see the man behind the legends.”

Her lips quirked, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Legends, you say? My father is no legend. He’s just a tinkerer with too much time on his hands.”

I chuckled. “Perhaps. But there’s more to him than meets the eye. And there’s certainly more to you, my dear.” I gestured toward the intricate sigils etched into her armor. “Those runes—what do they protect you from?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “They’re a ward against curses. My father insists on it. Says it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Smart man,” I murmured. “And you? Are you as cautious as he is?”