Ana doesn't quite understand why Quinn follows her alone. She certainly has some ulterior motives, with the ways her eyes are searching, and her inquiry seems to always point slowly but surely towards the personal.

Yet, even after spending time with her for nearly three weeks now, Ana still couldn't figure out her reasoning beside the woman's clear interest in her. Which almost forces her to admit that maybe that's simply the case.

Until an obvious question hit her: "Why do you want to murder Duke Holloway, Ms. Quinn?"

Quinn, who has been helping her prepare the herbs and turning them to proper medicines, "Hm?" Stops her work and gaze straight at her, the query in her eye makes it evident that she doesn't hear Ana.

So, she repeats herself. "Duke Holloway. Why do you want him dead, Ms. Quinn?"

"Ah, that!" she smiles in realization. "Adder tells you nothing beside my desire to murder him, then?"

Ana shakes her head.

"Now! That's a shame. Did he not trust you, Matriarch?"

"He does," she answers, sure of her words. After all, while the general hasn't been entirely honest with her, she's convinced it's not exactly an issue of confidence with how deferential he's being to her.

"I see," Quinn quickly agrees. "Then, I suppose I could share more, then!"

At that, Ana edges herself a little closer, just in case Quinn whispers again. Much like their time in the forest a week ago, that time when she looks into her eyes and notes a verdant green not poisonous, but a thriving woodland in the spring.

Almost every night now she thinks about that night, questioning why she's so comfortable recounting a secret she told no living souls to somebody she only knew for less than a month. Someone currently smiling widely on the topic of killing another with reason as flimsy as: "Because he's in my way."

"To what, Ms. Quinn?" Ana prods further.

"To your favor, Matriarch."

"I do not favor murderers."

"Not one with the wrong cause."

"Are you claiming yours to be just, Ms. Quinn?"

"I do." Her tone grave. "A person must always fulfill their promises, Matriarch; no matter what." Her gaze's heavy, daring a rebuke. Ana offers nothing but a nod, "I see." Lifting them both from the thick atmosphere with the finality of her words.

She certainly is curious about what kinds of guarantees Quinn made. After all, her answer made it obvious that the vow wasn't the death of Duke Holloway; rather something else entirely that may only be tangentially connected to the duke.

She shivers at the idea of individuals murdered simply due to nothing but their proximity to a more important matter or person. She wonders if that's what will happen to her, if that's why Quinn was indeed here, to assassinate the current religious leader of the temple.

Ana shakes her head violently at such an idea. Not just because she refuses to die before she finishes her work, not just because she believes its arrogance to suppose someone would kill her for the position she holds, but also because thinking poorly about Quinn makes her feel bad, especially after that night in the wood.

Every time she remembers it, she can't help but ponder about how vulnerable they're being, two strangers in an unnamed forest, in the middle of an armed conflict. Perhaps that's why they're so ready to share, because they're nothing to each other.

Or maybe, they willingly share their scars to show how much they want to be more than nothing. The same way Ana is still particularly curious about the etching beneath Quinn's eye, or the manner by which her prosthetic works.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

As if reading her mind. "Something the matter?" Quinn pipes up with a teasing smile, pulling Ana back to the reality where they both are sitting in her office, looking at each other's faces, motionless.

And despite her guts telling her she must be embarrassed, she doesn't. Instead, she takes Quinn's question as a chance to finally appeal for permission she has been itching to ask since she first spotted her.

"May I touch you, Ms. Quinn?" she wondered, as nicely as her voice and affectation allow.

"Oh, my!" In a mock offense, Quinn mimics the expression of scandalized nobles. "Not satisfied with seeing, you wish to touch me now!" Poorly hiding her pleased smile. "Well! By all means." As she then proceeds to unbuckle her plated leather with practiced accuracy.

Cutting her off. "I apologize if I'm not coherent enough, but—"

"Oh, Matriarch! Don't worry, it's very clear to me."

"—I mean the scar under your left eye, Ms. Quinn."

"... Oh." Her disappointment almost sounds real. "Well, if you must."

"Thank you, Ms. Quinn." With a nod of gratitude, Ana walks closer to the woman.

Who still tries to persuade her to do more. "The offer stands, though!"

Ana can only hope she will never fall for it as they once more find themselves so very near to each other. "I understand," Ana answers, decisively ending the topic for the moment as she slowly reaches out to brush Quinn's cheek.

The both of them hold their breath, as if expecting something to happen the instant their skins connect. But time doesn't stand still, there's no shift to the situation or reality the second it makes contact.

Yet, as they release their breath together a flash after Ana makes the tap, the fact that nothing changes makes it seem more significant, grounded in a thing solid. Something that they can not only touch and feel, but—"I did that to myself."—caresses from Ana makes her react in a way that tempts Ana to do more.

It takes a lot from her not to follow, to simply trace the scar as she whispers the obvious question: "Why?"

"For power, to protect me."

"And all that you hold dear?"

"And all that I hold dear," Quinn echoes, her smile wide, but not quite reaching her eye that shines with a different luster than mere impish desire.

"Is it connected to your heart, then?" she continues to prod after repetitively caressing the scar, finally recognizing which deity claims it as a symbol.

"It is."

"Eye." Ana traces downward after her question was quickly answered. "Arm." Lingering on her left arm, a prosthetic covered in armor. "Heart." Then, hovering over her chest, so close yet so far away, she gazes; trying to look into it.

She couldn't see, of course; nor could she hear the hammering, because the magical heart doesn't beat: it merely pumps. She understood now why the general trust the woman with assassination, why she succeeds in so many of her schemes: she cheated.

As if reading her mind: "I do." Quinn pulls her attention back to her face. "Have eye, arm, and heart, I mean." Then, her smile turns a hint more suggestive. "And also! A nice bosom, if that's what you're looking at, instead."

"At your chest, yes; but not because of it, Ms. Quinn," Ana tries to explain, keeping her expression straight.

"I would be fine if it's the latter, though." Quinn winks. "Pleased, even!"

"Noted." Comes the quick reply as Ana takes a step back from Quinn with a bit of reluctance, they still have a task to finish after all.

With the word job flashing through her mind. "Oh, Ms. Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"I was to be attached to you."

"Well, Matriarch. Depending on where we're being attached to, not only do I have no protest, I in fact—!"

"For your mission, the mission."

"... Ah!" Quinn squeaks out, managing to hide infuse a disappointment that sounds too sincere to be entirely theatrical in nature. "Well, I'm glad if that's the case! Having such a reliable woman by my side, watching my back? What. Could. Go. Wrong?"

A whole host of things to Ana. But she doesn't comment, choosing to end their conversation in a question that's tempting Fate for a reprimand. Finally, they return their focus to their duty, quickly finishing it before delivering the freshly pounded herbs—some into a paste and others to dust—to the sick bay to help the soldiery once more.

During the trip, the silence of their journey and the monotony of their job, Ana spent more time thinking on the fact that she will be operating independently of the people she's supposed to lead, guarding the back of an almost friend.

Nobody forced her, certainly. General Adder has no power over the temple's officials, especially not to give them orders. But Ana saw no reason to deny the man. After all, he's not asking her to kill another for him, just to watch the back of those who will, something she and her detachment already done.

With that grim thought in mind, she spent the rest of her evening performing her duty. With the wintertime soon approaching, the skirmishes are getting rarer and rarer, all sides understand that they must conserve resources to survive the cruelty of white.

And Ana attempts to help achieve that for her side in some small ways. Firstly, by gathering the seasonal herbs before the cold wiped them out completely. And secondly, by trying her best to make sure there's no one left sick in the medical tent when the winter arrives.

The job she performs tirelessly, with Quinn now accompanying her, until the both of them finally have news of their last engagement to make before winter truly sets in.

To the duke's last holdout, they march.