Disclaimer: This chapter contains mature scenes. You have been warned. Continuation. Naturally, I am a calm and collected woman. Besides being utterly looked upon for being physically attractive and intelligent, these are a few of the traits I possess that aid me in a lot of situations as a noblewoman. But at this moment, I’m being neither one of those. “I think I’m in love with you, Yelena.” As the words I've said sink into both me and the redheaded servant in front of me, I begin to stutter. Again. “Ah—” I start, panic rising in me as the words pour out. “W-what I am saying is, mayhap it is too soon for me to claim that I am, in actuality, in love! With you! Y-yes, um…! I mean, we had only just met over a sennight ago and I am aware that you are a woman, as am I, and 'tis out of the ordinary that a woman claims to be in love with another woman and h-here I am having you suddenly confess— I mean me! Me, not you— I’m still unable to fully grasp my feelings at the moment and I am

The sweat on my brows. The tension in my shoulders. The daggers in my hands. The mental distress I am currently experiencing. “Severin,” I yell, my voice shaking. “Are you sure we are going to do this? Is this really safe?!” “You were the one who wanted to train with your daggers a while back, and I think you are more than capable!” “You think?!” It has only been a sennight since Severin had first trained me, after practically begging him to, and only then has this cabbage-head decided to spar with me… …with my daggers! I've only learned enough from him to be able to spar with him weaponless! He may be a sly, ill-mannered saddle-goose but I do not want to cause him any harm! “I’m reconsidering everything hither!” “Stop letting your hesitance impede you!” “B-but what if I actually hurt you?!” “Cease all your whats and ifs— just come at me, Maia!” Despite my hesitance and my instructor’s exasperation, I grip the daggers’ hilts in a forward grip. My eyes land on the green-ha

“Eternal suffering…” I mutter to myself as I pull back the hemp bowstring to nock an arrow. “That is what they all deserve… They will pay for what they did to their own kin.” When I release the bowstring, the arrow flies past my head and into the hay target thirty paces away from me. The arrow lands just slightly off the middle ring. I curse under my breath. I risked my life just to escape the manor. I was hurt, alone, and in a half-naked state. I suffocated the man I was to wed to death beforehand. I jumped across my window, latched onto the old oak tree across it, and climbed down. I knew not where to go, but I had to get out of what was once called my home. Going around the entire manor’s walls was no easy task; I had to ensure that I was not going to be seen or caught, so I took the perilous route— nearer the valley. Right when I went past the forest’s edge, this band of rebels found me, and took me in. If it hadn’t been for the healer they were with, I would have been left to

Oh, off with my head. For the next few days we have been training, after I had taught Maia how to thieve— well, something like that, I came to realize that I’ve been stealing glances at her, especially when she is minding her own business. I sincerely hope that she doesn’t think that I’m being an absolutely despicable and perverted dalcop, but there’s something about her that is… appealing to me, aside from her physical appearance. I’ve started noticing the tiniest of details about her. For instance, she beholds views and gazes at objects that pique her interests, or “are pleasing to her eyes”, as she claims. When she recently suggested buying goods with the large amount of money she stole, I watched her bite her lip and stare longingly at a miscellany of blankets, sheets, and clothes made of either wool or linen hung about outside a merchant’s house. I insisted that she could buy one of the items she wanted if she deemed it necessary, and the smile on her face was beyond compare. S

“Either we do this to make things simpler, or make things difficult, Yelena,” importunes the man dressed in fine red, blue, and gold garments, jabbing an adorned forefinger at me through the bars of my cell. The red-jeweled gold ring wreathing his finger looks so familiar… but I cannot remember where I’ve seen it. “If you do not have answers on my daughter’s whereabouts by the time your masters return, you are done, wretch.” With this, Lord Eadmond stares daggers at me, amber eyes squinting in the dim candlelight, before leaving with a scoff. ‘Tis another day in the dungeon, and the only thing keeping me warm and giving me a wee sense of protection in this dark, damp, and lonely chamber is Clemence’s red, silk gown— the very one she used to hide my bare body with from the condemnatory stares of her family. I truly do not know where my beloved has gone— after the guards ruthlessly threw me into this cell, I've been unaware of what has been happening up above. If the Davidsons themselv