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Vivienne looked over his shoulder, at the parchment. "You're challenging a squire?" He half turned back towards her, smiling slightly. "Ah, I see. Has the lad offended you, or - oh, Mithros, Wyldon. You're challenging the girl? I thought you liked that one, love." Her voice was teasing, but she raised her eyebrows at him as he finished his signature with a flourish and turned around to smile at her.
"She's done well, yes," he replied, taking his wife's arm in his. "I would like to see if she's improved with Goldenlake." He nearly laughed at her skeptical look, but continued, perhaps more seriously, "If I cannot challenge Keladry of Mindelan in the lists, for fear of damaging her fragile female self, I will have done her, myself, and the realm a grievous ill. If she is half the warrior I believe her to be, she'll do fine."
She shook her head. "And if she doesn't?"
Wyldon gave that one a moment's thought. "Then I'll tell her, and she'll know to do better next time."
For a moment, the setting sun, glinting off the trappings and tents behind them, lit her husband's crown in gold and red, and his face was in shadow as he looked expectantly at her. Vivienne smiled, and squeezed his hand. "Good," she said firmly. "I'll be watching."