My Knight

Click, clack, BUMP!

The garish, opulent, heavily armoured carriage jolted as it hit a particularly formidable bump in the road. Crown Princess Lena jerked forward, cracked her forehead on the carriage door, and bit back a profanity. Her delightful daydream that held at bay the colossal boredom of their journey to Aceris tumbled out the window and ended up on the roadside somewhere behind them. King Ludwig the Descendant swore. His face scrunched up with annoyance, one hand down between his legs feeling about on the floor while the other held aside a book. Across from him, Queen Helena attempted to help, but was swatted aside for the effort and jabbed at him with her knee. She crossed her arms and directed her scorn at the rolling background outside.

“Aha! Found you, you little bugger!” Ludwig withdrew with his glasses held aloft like some precious gemstone. He slid them back onto the end of his nose. “Why those bloody Diadochians decided to build all their roads with cobblestones is beyond me,” he grumbled, and went back to reading.

Lena sighed. The forest beyond the frame of the window looked particularly beautiful today. The sonn was unrestricted in its radiance and brought out the vibrance in the greens and browns of the environment. Crystal bouquets sparkled technicolour brilliance. The air was warm and the breeze cool, with a hint of sticky tree sap. A brilliant red squirrel dashed up a tree, cheeks full of nuts, to watch the convoy roll past from relative safety. Deer and hares off in the distance twitched, their attention heightened for trouble. Perhaps one day their party of nobility and Royal Guards would return to take up the hunt, but not today. A horse pulled alongside and slightly ahead of the carriage, blocking some of the view. Lena directed her gaze to the rider and smiled. It was the new soldier assigned to the Guard. Knight Dame Florentine Roux, if she recalled correctly.

She remembered the parade the armed forces put on to celebrate victory in the war. It was there that she’d met Roux for the first time, standing alongside her parents as her father pinned a medal on the young war hero. She’d looked dashing back then in her dress uniform, and looked equally so in her slightly muddied regular uniform. Roux’s bright ginger hair glowed and its masculine style complimented her sharp, angular features and broad shoulders. Lena found herself directing a drunken grin at the guard’s back. Her posture was incredible, and the tailored fit of the uniform did a spectacular job of painting a picture in Lena’s imagination. Her cock twitched.

“Don’t worry, Milady.” Roux slowed her horse to keep pace with the window. “There’s an inn a few more kilometres down the road.”

Lena reddened. “Of course,” she said, voice cracking. “Thank you, my Knight.” Her eyes popped at the unintended slip. A squeak escaped her throat.

“I know how you feel.” She shot a wink at the princess that blasted through her heart and went straight to her crotch. “I feel about as good as you look.”

Before she could shove her way through the thick hormone soup in her mind to work out just what had happened, Knight Roux had pulled ahead once again to join the vanguard up front. In a short moment of panic, she glanced, eyes only, towards her parents, but her father was utterly absorbed with his book and her mother looked to be on the verge of falling asleep. It was undignified for a lady to show such a lapse in decorum. But that didn’t stop the other noblewomen, and she wasn’t too bothered about it stopping her. Not in the privacy of wherever the fuck along the road to Aceris they were.

#

A squad of the Diadochian army’s elite unit, the Praetorian Guard, had arrived ahead of time to secure the inn and officially welcome the king and his royal entourage to the country. They were line up outside the humble two-story log building tucked in amongst the trees and flowers and foliage and crystals. Their uniforms comprised of a steel galea sporting an exuberant maroon plume, matching paludemantum detailed with gold stitching atop lorica segmentata armour polished to a mirror shine, a maroon tunic, white braccae, and a pair of leather caligae with armoured shin pads. Their armoured appearance was a sharp contrast from the Dawn Stone Royal Guard’s delicate, dandyish uniforms of royal purple coatees and black jodhpurs and riding boots.

King Ludwig disembarked before the carriage had fully stopped to watch the performance with unabashed glee. Several of the Royal Guard flinched at his sudden action. Helena rolled her eyes and followed, ever poised. Lena got out last, but her attention wasn’t on the pretentious, stiff dance of the soldiers. Her attention remained enslaved to one soldier in particular.

Lena had been attracted to Roux since the first time she’d seen her, but she was attracted to a lot of people and one more handsome face kicking around the palace wasn’t unusual. The last few weeks, however, had been a whirlwind of activity and preparations ahead of their state visit, and it had been far too long since she’d entertained anyone but her hand. The stress and fatigue of being couped up in a carriage with her parents for nearly twelve hours a day for the last week had worn on her mental state, and the seemingly unending presentation dragged until Lena was internally screaming to get away. King Ludwig then insisted on thanking each of the Diadochian soldiers personally, but that particular excess fortunately didn’t extend to the rest of his family.

Dotted between the trees beyond the inn were the assembled tents of the Praetorians. The rooms had all been reserved for herself, her family, and their retainers. That had always been part of the plan, so the Royal Guards set about adding to the camp, stowing the horses and carriages. Lena got halfway to the entrance when a hardy, older woman with a body built like a tree-trunk and a smile as warm as fresh apple pie and an older, heavy-set man emerged from beneath the arched sign above the door that red The Purple Swallow Inn. Their eyes lit up with a reverential awe that Lena found entirely uncomfortable, but there was no way to circumvent them without blowing them off. That would quickly spiral into a whole situation that involved a long lecture from her father about the way a proper princess should act. The prospect turned her stomach, so she did the proper thing and stopped to accept the proprietor and her husband’s greetings with all the pomp and circumstance they expected.

As much as she hated to admit it, humouring the couple had helped to distract her frustrated, pent-up mind and gave her something to focus on away from her parents and all the activity outside. They showed her inside, beaming the entire time as they tripped over each other regaling her with stories and showing her family heirlooms in the way only excited grandparents could. It was refreshing, grounding. She let go of the throbbing in her loins and the pressure in her chest, and relaxed into the tour.

Every room they led her through was steeped in family history. A framed copy of the deed dated the founding of the inn to the year 899 C.A., and they made sure she knew the land was only wild forest when the purchase had went through. The proprietors ancestors had built and maintained and expanded and remodelled the building with their own hands and the help of some local craftsmen; local, in this case, being the town twenty-five kilometres farther down the road. Children’s drawings and crafts, trophies and medals, professional accomplishments related and unrelated to the inn. Not a single surface was spared. It was a museum to the history of the family, but more importantly, it acted as an anchor. No matter how far their ambitions and desires took members of the family, they’d always have a place full of love to return to.

Lena listened intently and asked plentiful questions. The couple’s enthusiasm washed her clean of the Helish carriage ride, revived her spirits. Interruptions bounced off her, requests were answered without thought, whatever got rid of them quicker. All she was interested in was the love of the proprietor and her husband, and their love of family. Such warmth Lena didn’t feel often. She let the world turn around her, cocooned away in the couple’s warm embrace, and she was proud to have amassed an extensive knowledge of their family history. How much would she remember? She wasn’t sure. Probably not much. But she was happy for the experience.

The tour was politely broken up by Dame Roux, who’d been sent by Sire Montaigne, Knight-Captain of the Royal Guard, to fetch the young princess and inform her that her staff had finished making her room ready. The knight had a stiff professionalism to her that she’d lacked out on the road. This was the Roux Lena had encountered occasionally throughout the palace. She wondered if the attraction she’d felt in the carriage was all in her head. Lena bade the owner and her husband adieu and retired.

They ascended to the first floor where all the noise and hustle and bustle fell away. The corridor was lined with rooms that were all empty save whichever Ludwig and Helena had chosen. Lena turned to lean out the window on the landing. It wasn’t much of a view: the camp below hummed with the sleepy activity of the soldiers, and beyond that an infinite forest that’s density was impenetrable. The thick, green canopy left the ground earthy brown and dotted with crystal bouquets ranging from the size of her finger to a full-grown person.

“It’s ever so wonderful to see real nature instead of the overly curated gardens of the inner city for once.” she said over her shoulder, with a bright, innocent smile. “Isn’t it simply beautiful?”

Roux flushed subtly—Lena almost missed it—as she averted her eyes from the princess’s body. “Yes, Milady,” she replied. “It is indeed.”

Lena’s heart flipped in her chest and her smile beamed like the Crystalline Goddess herself. She turned fully to face the flustered guard. “It’s okay to look,” she told her through a teasing smirk. “Not that you can see anything with all these layers.”

Her face remained stoic. “I would never presume to obje—”

“I find you extremely handsome.” Lena took a step closer. “There’s nothing wrong with finding, or not finding, attraction in others; it’s a natural part of life and you shouldn’t be ashamed of that.”

“I’m not ashamed, Milady. My job is to ensure the life of you and your family—nothing more. I’m no stranger to dallying in the delights of highborn peoples, but to begin an affair with the Crown Princess herself… I’m sorry, Milady, but I can’t afford to lose this job.”

“Come here.” Lena snatched Roux’s hand and attempted to drag her into the nearest room, but found herself anchored. “Come here. Please.”

Roux obliged and followed her inside. Lena ensured the door was closed and locked then turned on her personal guard with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “I have one simple question for you,” she said. “Do you find me attractive? I assure you, on my honour, that this is strictly between us and you’re under no obligation to answer. Our stations are a non-factor here. No-one is around to overhear or catch us in the act. If word gets out, it’ll be treated as just another of my dalliances. I promise to protect you.”

Roux’s shoulder’s pulled back, chest puffing. She nodded. “Yes, Milady, I find you extremely attractive and—” the words stalled in her throat “—I remember seeing you at the knighting ceremony. It was the first time I’d ever seen you up close.” Her professional demeanour slipped and she made eye contact with Lena, giving the princess an unmasked view of the full intensity of her attraction. It burned with the hunger of a starved wolf in a pig pen. “You are…truly stunning.”

Lena’s heart hammered against the inside of her ribcage and a burst of warmth spread through her body, flushed her cheeks, stirred her loins. Affairs were common place for her and all revolved around two factors: the cheap thrill of sleeping with the princess or with an ambition to future favours. What she saw in Roux’s eyes was passion, lust. She had no ambitions of leverage and clearly wasn’t interested in putting her livelihood on the line for a cheap thrill. Her reputation amongst the wives of the lesser nobility appeared to be legitimate. Lena inhaled sharply. “T-That was a very honest answer,” she stammered.

“You deserve no less, Milady.” Roux closed the gap between them and, with a newfound confidence, smirked down at the princess whom she towered over. “Perhaps in another life, had circumstances been different, I’d take the opportunity to serve you outside the bounds of my current position.”

Lena could only look up, eyes wide, breathing heavily, enraptured by the spell of such a powerful, handsome woman in such close proximity. Every primal instinct in her body moaned at her to tear the uniform from Roux’s body and force her to her knees to make good on that offer. Her heaving, slightly sweat-sheened bosom drew Roux’s eye. Her dizzy mind swam in the distinct lack of blood.

“Would you be able to handle all that responsibility?” she asked weakly. “Guarding my life by day and warming my bed by night.”

“I would take the utmost pleasure in serving you in any way you deem fit, Milady.”

Lena squeaked. Her hands trembled. So desperately did she want to claw her way from the bounds of her dress. It was hot and wet and entirely too restrictive. She knew if she bore herself to Roux that the guard wouldn’t be able to resist. Thoughts of lewd, passionate acts plastered across the backs of her eyes like flyers on a city noticeboard. Her cock strained, throbbing. It took everything she had not to growl at the taller woman.

Who withdrew. “I hope you have a pleasant night,” she said, all hint of their brief connection extinguished. “Good evening, Milady.”

The words sunk into Lena’s chest as if Roux had run her through with her rapier. She turned to track the knight as she left and only let out a breath when the door clicked shut. Then sharply inhaled again. She stood there panting, dizzy with desire. It had been too long since someone had drenched her in oil and set it alight in the way Florentine had. She could barely hold herself together. Several days of riding in a carriage with her parents really had fried her system. But she wasn’t entirely sure that was fully to blame for her reaction. Florentine was handsome, honourable, poised, dedicated, loyal, willing. Lena wavered on her feet. What had started out as a bit of fun flirting with the handsome new member of the Royal Guard had crashed and burned worse than last month’s airship prototype test. She gave in and let herself fall to the side, onto the bed pressed against the wall, hitting with a bounce and sighing all at once. She was a mess.

Knock! Knock!

“Lena?” It was her father. “Are you in there?”

She left him hanging for a beat before announcing her presence.

He popped his head in. “What are you doing in here? We’ve got a room prepared for you down the hall.”

“Sorry, Father,” she mumbled, before sitting up and saying, clearly, “I was a little lightheaded is all.”

His features softened. “You do look exhausted,” he said. “I’ll have to maids draw you a bath, then you can retire for the night.”

With the adrenaline from her flirtatious encounter dumping itself from her system, the fatigue of the day’s travel wrapped its claws around her limbs and aching set in all over her body. “That would be wonderful,” she said. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

Ludwig straightened into his kingly posture and marched out to put the plan into action.

#

A long, throaty groan rumbled from Lena as she sank gradually into the steaming hot tub causing one of her maids to avert her eyes, blushing hard. She got a little kick out of that, but was far more focused on the physical dirt and grime washing off. The water worked away at her stiff muscles, sheened her exposed skin with glossy sweat, and opened up her pores. She allowed herself to luxuriate for several moments before commending and dismissing her maids. Alone for the first time in what felt like days, she was finally able to relax. The sounds of activity throughout the inn were distant and muffled, and soon she found her eyelids beginning to—

The door opened and shut with equally stealthy subtlety. Lena opened her eyes, ready to glare at whoever it was who couldn’t let her have five minutes of peace. And instantly reconsidered. Dame Roux slid the latch shut on the door and turned to her. She was still dressed in her riding boots and tights, but had done away with her coatee to let the shirt beneath bloom. It’s front was tied tantalisingly loosely to reveal a deep, delicious V of hardened, scarred skin. Lena gawked at it like the lust-stricken fool in a play.

Roux crossed to the tub, knelt by it. “Good evening, Milady.”

“Good evening,” Lena squeaked. She couldn’t be more aware of how exposed and erect she was if she tried. Bubble bath hadn’t been on their list of essential travel items. “Can I help you, Knight?”

Florentine’s eyes drank in every centimetre of Lena, cheeks flushed, breaths deep and rapid. “I’ve reconsidered your offer,” she answered in a low, husky growl. “I can’t stop thinking about the way you smelled, the texture of your skin, the need in your eyes.” Her hand slipped into the water and took Lena’s cock. She gasped. “I craved to see what was under those tresses of clothing. It became my entire desire. My body calls out for you.” Her other hand tore her shirt asunder. “I need you!”

Lena thrust her hips to meet Florentine’s agonisingly deliberate stroking. She moaned. Every instinct she had begged her to rise from the tub and take Florentine. Primal. Instinctual. There was no thought to technique or romance or elaborate ropework. All that mattered was satisfying the needs of her flesh, of Florentine’s flesh. Feasting on her. She hungered to take what lay between the knight’s legs. Lena tried to shift, but Florentine deepened her strokes and started varying her speed. She’d already edged fast enough after so long without privacy, but the added stimulation was too much to handle. Lena released.

“Oh, Florentine! Florentine, yes!” she moaned.

“Lena! Lena!” came the insistent, demanding tone of her mother’s voice. Lena opened her eyes. Florentine looked cross with her. “What are you doing in there?” Knock! Knock! “I’d like to have a bath before it’s time to leave tomorrow!”

Lena’s eyes shifted focus over Florentine’s shoulder to the door and the knight faded away. “Uhm… Just a minute, Mother!” A note of panic came over her. She looked around the room, splashing water about, trying to decide what to do with the cum now floating in the bath. Coming down from days of pent-up frustration slapped her like an iced fish. Another barrage of knocking spurred her into action. She bound from the bath and snatched up a nearby bucket, scooped up the load and turned upon the nearest window—splash cut off by a yelp cut off by the clack of the shutters banging closed. She slid the latch into place. Based on the accent, it was a Diadochian soldier she’d scored a hit on. Perhaps, in the interest of relations between their two nations, it was best if she never breathed a word about this to anyone…ever. The last thing anyone wanted was an international incident because she’d panicked at the climax.

Wouldn’t that be awkward?

#

Fire’s crackled outside in the pitch dark woods, mostly unattended and burning themselves out. The king had retired to his room for the night while her mother continued to enjoy her soak. A bath, Lena bitterly noted, that was reaching twice the length of her own. She nurtured that bitterness like the conniving villain in a pulp theatre production. One day she would have her revenge. Today, however, she’d go for a walk. And to do that without rousing half the guard, she’d put her well-honed skills at mischief to good use. The jolt to her system from the bath had woken her back up and she was as alert as ever. Lena cracked her fingers, looked left and right, then climbed out the kitchen window.

Her slipper-clad feet rustled the twiggy grass. She kept to the wall, peered around the corner. Most of the soldiers had gone to sleep for the night, but some still milled around their camp fires. Knight Roux was one of them. She sat perched against the base of a tree next to the strongest fire with a book open on her lap. She was still stunningly handsome, but having cum in the bath earlier, she no longer wanted to climb the knight like a feral squirrel. Her gaze lingered, though, just a beat too long and Roux looked up. A surge of excitement brought her to full awareness as she ducked back into the shadow of the inn. Lena didn’t think Roux had seen her, and yet… But she’d made enough of a fool of herself in front of the knight for one day. Her attention returned to her true objective and she fled into the woods.

Lena didn’t go far. She needed to get out and about, not lost. Her journey took her far enough that she could see the lingering remnants of the camp fires and no farther. The forest was achingly still. Her surroundings amounted to whatever was in a radius of metres and anything beyond dropped in detail to become inky silhouettes at best and impenetrable darkness at worst. Nocturnal animals scuttled about behind that curtain, upsetting foliage as the only indicator that they were there at all. The weather was mild, without any wind to tug at the thick canopy overhead. After some exploration, Lena came upon a small, grassy clearing and lay down on the cool ground, tucked her hands behind her head and stared up at the midnight blue sky. Each star twinkled silently down at her, and there were ever so many. Thousands. Millions. More. She wondered if the Crystalline Goddess lived near one of them. She didn’t seem to spend much of any time on Orbis, despite the incessant preaching of the church.

CRUNCH!

Lena looked up with her eyes. Florentine, upside down, stepped out from behind a tree. She wore that slutty dressed down outfit that Lena had pictured her wearing in the bath. The dark hid her blush.

“It’s not safe for you here.”

“Are you worried a wild cat gets me? Perhaps a pack of wolves? However would my parents react to me coming home with lycanthropy?”

“Please, Milady”—she stepped fully into the clearing—“don’t joke about such things.”

“You’re right. With you here, I need not fear the dark.”

“I’m unarmed.”

“You’ve got that book; it’s got to be capable of stopping an arrow or two.”

“I’d rather not.”

“You don’t think you’re capable of defending me?”

“I’ve not finished it yet.”

“Well, we’d better hope we’re not beset by bandits, then.” She returned her gaze to the sky and patted the earth beside her. “Lie with me.”

Roux audibly choked. “Milday!”

“Oh, come now. Don’t act all prim and proper after our talk earlier.” Again, she patted the earth. “Lie down.”

Roux narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, then acquiesced. She made sure to leave an appropriate space between them when she lay down, and for several minutes they stared up at the night sky together. It got ever so slightly cooler. The trees shivered and the natural ambience surrounded them with all manner of soothing sounds. Lena often fell asleep in perfect silence. Her room in the palace was so separated from the city below and even her parents, and the staff were taught to move unnoticed, that she often felt as if she slipped into a strange parallel dimension where she was the only person in the world. Out here, they were surrounded by life, and she had the pleasure of being accompanied by a stunningly handsome woman.

Lena started to create constellations of her own and soon felt the heaviness of sleep working its way back to her. But before she got too tired, she indulged a little of her curiosity. “What book is it you’re ever so protective of?”

Roux seemed to flinch at the sudden question, having started to drift off herself. “Betwixt My Sheets. It’s the new Samantha de Saint-Dumas novel.”

“Never heard of her.”

“Not surprising. She’s not exactly what one might call…literary.”

“Oh?”

“That’s a lie,” Roux repealed. “She’s extremely literary. Her prose is gorgeous and she has a way of constructing scenes that is more intimate than anyone else I’ve read. But she writes smut, so you all dismiss her. Bloody pretentious, if you ask me.”

“Watch what you’re saying there, Knight. I am the crown princess, after all.”

Roux sat bolt upright. “Sincerest, deepest apologies, Milady!”

Lena’s explosive laughter thundered through the relative quiet of the forest. “Please, relax, Knight.” Then added, “Knight Roux, please.”

“Apologies.” She lay back down. A beat of silence passed. “You can call me Florentine.”

“What a beautiful name.”

“T-Thank you, Milady.”

“So, Florentine, what’s Betwixt My Sheets about?”

She glanced at the travel-worn paperback. “It’s about the affair between a young woman trying to make it as an author and the wealthy wife of a weapon’s manufacturer.”

“Ooh, steamy!”

“I’ve not finished it yet, but the war has just started and Kate, the author, is having a crisis of conscience because she’d not only accepted erotic advances from Constance, the wife, but also money and introductions to notable people in the publishing industry. What started out as a thrilling affair has exposed her to the institutional and systemic rot that festers between the aristocracy and bourgeoisie.”

Lena was a little miffed. “You’re right: that isn’t a book I’d be familiar with.”

“It’s a…relatable story.”

“I’m aware of your reputation.”

“Those affairs are purely for fun. I’ve got too much to lose to put anything real on the line for them.”

“Smart.” Lena let out a breath. “I do apologise for cornering you earlier.”

“I’m aware of your reputation.”

“It’s hardly a secret. It’s almost a requirement for those of my class.”

“And yet you all go around pretending you’re above that sort of thing. Why would anyone design a society like that?” Florentine stared unblinkingly up at the sky, eyes shifting subtly as she searched for something. “The Crystalline Goddess loves us all equally for the beauty in our uniqueness. Why we would take that unconditional love and support and build such a rigid societal structure that no-one really seems to adhere to is beyond me. It shouldn’t be frowned upon to share love and intimacy with multiple people. We’re all connected, after all.”

Lena began to warm, again in her crotch, but this time overwhelmingly in her chest. Lün illuminated Florentine is a soft, sparkling silver light that highlighted her delicately masculine features. It was almost inconceivable to see Florentine stood in a firing line, charging across a field bayonet first, sitting around campfires at night laughing with the lads. She appeared far too refined and feminine for such activities, and yet ever so masculine in presence and handsome to a fault. It sent Lena’s heart through loops, and finally brought the warmth to its eventual culmination in her cheeks.

“Would you care to accompany me back to my room?” she whispered in an unexpectedly breathy tone.

“I’m flattered by the offer”—Florentine sat up—“but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

“I’d like you to escort me.” Lena, too, sat up, offering her hand to where Florentine would be had she been standing. “I’d like you to escort me back to my room at the inn and tell me more.”

“There’s not really that much more to tell you about—”

“Tell me about another book, tell me about yourself, tell me about what you had for breakfast this morning. Please, honour me with your company for the night. I can sleep on the carriage ride.”

“I appreciate that it’s an option for you, but I’d rather not spend the day trying to ride sleep deprived.” Florentine helped her to her feet. “However, if you ask me again when we reach Aceris, I’d be happy to take you up on that offer.”

“Of course!” Lena felt herself redden at the desperation with which she jumped on the offer. She took Florentine’s arm and nodded for them to begin back. She couldn’t stop her racing mind or heart. She knew for certain that she was attracted to Florentine on a physical level, but her body was reacting far more strongly than it had for most other of her affairs. It equal parts thrilled and terrified her. She wondered if the stronger reaction was due to the agitation of travelling, or the frustration from a lack of sex, or the sleep deprivation, or the mood surrounding their clandestine meeting. Not that she was in any condition to do any sort of reasonable introspective. Her heart, body, and mind were focused entirely on the warmth and scent of Florentine’s proximity. The world around her lost its focus, like she was in a dream and the only solid thing to exist was her knight.

“It’s such a beautiful night.” Florentine’s voice took the stage. “I never get to spend any time out in the countryside. Not for pleasure. I spent weeks out in the forest and tundra during the war. It was beautiful, and I destroyed it. Every time I left Dawn Stone, I left to kill.”

“It’s a soldier’s duty to kill to protect their country,” Lena said, her mind clearing in response to the turning mood. “You were awarded the Royal Mark of the Goddess for helping assure our victory. There’s no reason to feel guilty. You should be proud of your conduct during the war.”

Florentine stopped and Lena was tugged off balance. She decoupled and turned to look at the knight. Strips of dark shadow wrapped themselves around her, like a silhouette one might catch out of the corner of their eye in a haunted place. Lena couldn’t understand what was happening, only that she’d struck a nerve. A shock of panic sliced through her chest. The moment stretched out to a painful degree, like someone had wormed their fingers into the wound and pulled it apart.

“A soldier’s job is murder,” Florentine finally said, “and murder is immoral. Dress it up however you like to help you sleep at night, but it always boils down to that.” She started back to the inn, stopping, now bathed fully in shadow. “I’m afraid I’ll be unable to escort you back to your room, Milady. Good night.”

Florentine merged with the darkness before Lena could react. “FUCK!” she snapped. And turned to the nearest tree, leant her forehead against the course, cold bark, and proceeded to kick the base in time with her, “fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She had no idea what pitfall she’d stumbled into, but it was clear something she’d said had upset Dame Florentine and ruined an otherwise perfect night. Why was she such a stupid, dumb, idiot? Again with the kicking and profanity. She wished a gang of bandits would melt out of the night and carry her off to a life of penance for being such an insensitive ass. And to add insult to injury, she also had to come to terms with the realisation that she’d developed an emotional attraction to Florentine. She wanted to get to know that woman, share teaffee and traybakes beneath the frilled canopy of a riverside patisserie, exchange notes on novels they’d read. Go for walks through the woods and run for cover when the weather unexpectedly turned.

And she’d ruined it all.

Lena screamed into the night, gave the tree one last kick for good measure, and hiked up her skirt as she started back towards the inn, filled with a burning annoyance at her own stupidity. Her relationship with Florentine was dead before it had even been conceived.