INICIAR SESIÓNTook me a while but I really like this chapter for some reason. What are y'all's thoughts? ~Author Leela
The fire had burned in the hearth, its dying embers casting a weak reddish glow across the large stone chamber.Shadows stretched long and unsteady over the wooden furniture and thick fur rugs. The air hung heavy with the mingled scents of spent passion; sweat, candle wax and something sweeter: sex.A single candle flickered on the bedside table, its wax dripping slowly onto the dark wood.Niverna lay completely naked on the tangled silk sheets, her skin still flushed and damp from their rigorous exertions. Her red hair spilled wildly across the white pillows.She watched through half-lidded eyes as Lucian rolled out of bed, his powerful, scarred body moving with that familiar grace that had clung to him ever since she knew him.He did not glance back at her for a second.He reached down for his discarded clothes scattered across the floor, muscles flexing under his skin.She stretched languidly, arching her back like a cat, then pushed herself up on one elbow. A small, knowing smirk p
Four days had passed by swiftly and I was up before the sun.The cottage was cold and quiet, as I moved through it carefully, not wanting to wake my mother, my feet finding the familiar floorboards that did not creak.I stood in the middle of the kitchen in my nightdress and practiced.The curtsy first. One foot behind the other, spine straight, eyes down.One. Two. Three. Rise.Hands loose at my sides. Chin level.Then the walk, legs moving back and forth at an unhurried pace.Next, I tried the bow, a quick dip of acknowledgment for council members, shorter and less submissive than the curtsy. It was a gesture that said I see you without saying I am beneath you.Then the address. The correct titles, the correct order of greeting, who outranked whom and what that meant for where my eyes went and whether I spoke first or waited.By the time the sun rose and the first sounds of the ridge drifted through the walls; a gate opening, someone calling a name into the early morning, my body was
It came before dawn and pulled me under completely. When it let me go, I was somewhere else entirely.I was small.I didn’t realize it at first until I saw my short-fingered, soft hands. Everything around me felt oversized and strange, and a helpless weight settled deep in my chest.I was sitting on a woman’s lap. I could only see the dark blue fabric of her dress and feel her arms wrapped around me, her heartbeat steady and strong against my back. The cloth smelled faintly of wildflowers and sun-warmed linen. The carriage jolted over uneven ground, sending blurred shapes of trees and hills drifting past the window.A broad-shouldered man sat across from us, his hands resting on his knees, face turned toward the passing world.“They will not follow this far,” the woman said quietly.“They always follow,” he answered, voice low and tired. “We both know that.”“Then we keep moving.”“There is nowhere left to go.”Her arms tightened around me, protectively.“There is always somewhere,” sh
The tournament grounds were packed.Warriors from across Silver Fang had gathered for the seasonal matches, a tradition as old as the pack itself. Nobles sat in the shaded stands, their fine clothes bright against the grey stone. Servants moved through the crowd with trays of drink and bread. The sun was high and hot, and the dust from the ring hung in the air like gold.Kaelan did not care for any of it.His opponent lunged. Kaelan sidestepped, caught the man's arm, and twisted it sharply. The crack of bone was audible even over the crowd's roar. The man fell hard, his face contorted, his hand hanging at an angle it was not meant to hang.He did not get up.Kaelan stood over him, chest heaving, his practice blade loose in his hand. He did not look at the man. He looked at the tournament master."Next," he said.The crowd went quiet.The tournament master hesitated. He was an old warrior, grey-haired and scarred, a man who had seen decades of blood spilled in this ring. He had never se
The cold did not care about etiquette.It came in from the north the way it always did in autumn, finding every gap in my coat and every patch of exposed skin. My breath fogged in front of me. My fingers were numb around the spine of the book.Pilar did not seem to notice the cold. She stood in the middle of my mother's garden with the book open in her hands and the expression of a woman who had found her calling entirely too late in life."Again," she said."Pilar-""Again. You dropped your eyes too early. The curtsy requires a count of three, and you came up at two.""It is freezing out here.""The Council will not care if you are cold. The Queen will not care if your fingers are numb. Again."I pressed my lips together and repositioned my feet. The frost crunched under my boots. The garden was dead, the flowers long gone, the herbs brown and brittle along the fence. My mother had tried to cover them before the first frost. She had not been fast enough.I bent to curtsy.One. Eyes do
Beneath the full moon, hidden within a forest of huge trees, was a little room.Its walls were old and its ceiling sagged. The floor had not been swept in years. A single candle burned on the table, its flame flickering unsteadily, casting shadows that seemed to move on their own.Elder Obelix sat in a corner, a few feet away from a woman whose name he had never learned. He had known her for twenty years. He had never asked. She was simply 'the sage'. That was enough."The spell takes time," she said."How much time?""Weeks. Maybe more. Blood is stubborn."Obelix shifted in his chair. It creaked under his weight. "You said you could read it quickly.""I said I could try." The sage did not look up from the bowl between them. The liquid inside was dark, thick, the color of old wine, and it pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. "The blood does not want to be read. Something is blocking me.""Something or someone?"She looked at him then. Her eyes shifted as he watched, dark one moment, then







