"Evangeline Bavtha."

As soon as Eva spoke the words, she grimaced. It was like trying to speak with a potato stuck in her mouth.

"Evangeline Unseen?"

This was the typical surname any feralborn would be given if they insisted on one. It felt like licking something bitter.

"Evangeline."

So far, so good. She could accept that part; she could even dare to call it her own. Every time she'd tried to insist on being anything or anyone else, it had failed horribly. Evangeline was the single thing that felt… hers.

"Then stay with me," she said to herself, cheeks flushing in a heartbeat. Rick had whispered those exact words right before giving her her name.

She’d read of this, though she never expected to experience it since it was supposedly just a cultural thing. To a maiden, her name was her bond. To change partners was to change their name. Eva hadn’t understood the point of it, since there were no laws that mandated this nor were there any societal faux pas if one kept their name. It was more of a custom most maidens of the kingdom and empire carried out on their own. But, standing in the position she was in now, it sort of made sense; the bond was a part of her in a way that was beyond physical.

At its core, the bond was a part of her that refused to let Rick die. The thought alone of such an event made her heart clench and fill her with dread. At the same time, however, it was more than that, even if she couldn’t properly express how. It was a tug that pointed her at him, and that feeling was as much a part of who Evangeline was as her own arm. In this context, protecting Rick was as natural a conclusion as wanting to protect oneself from harm. And the more she thought on the matter, the harder it was to consider any other possibility.

Eva shook her head to dispel that line of thought.

She had studied the bond since she could read, the task her family had was too great to allow anything less than perfect. Every moment and every facet of her existence had been dedicated to this job. The number of people who might know more about the bond than her were in the single digits. Until now, the bond had been no more magical or romantic than an enchantment or a spell. It was a metaphysical construct that protected a maiden from the feral curse.

In theory, the bond was nothing more than armor she wore to retain her sanity. Like a hermit crab's shell, it kept her safe, and in exchange, she kept it safe. "It," in this case, was Rick.

In theory, any other emotions that arose from the existence of the bond were cultural in nature. They were little more than impressions of how the maiden interpreted that drive to keep their human safe. To some, that meant becoming a sword or a shield; to others, it meant becoming a warden.

In theory, she should have been perfectly capable of controlling this aspect of herself. She was no peasant girl like Dia; she had every right to believe that Rick should kneel to her. The only people in the world that could have outranked her were either royalty, or the Emperor of the North.

Reality, however, was another matter entirely.

Which made her conclude that the anxious anticipation was not the result of the bond. The feeling felt familiar, the sort of experience she’d find acceptable in a book. Because today she was about to embark into the unknown.

It was to be an exploration of who and what "Evangeline" was, and what these feelings inside her meant. At the same time, it was mixed with dread, not only out of concern for what she might find but also for the fear of messing up. Every time she tried to reassure herself it was only the product of a hyperventilating imagination, she could only think of all the ways tonight could go wrong.

She’d been reassured that rejection would not happen. But the doubt gnawed at her all the same. All her life she’d learnt that failure was unacceptable, that one had to go at it until success came. But this was not something she’d be able to try a second time. This wasn’t some design that could be tested and polished.

Eva shook her head to dispel the wandering concerns and spun around the room, her hand holding her breeches to keep them from falling as she took three paces to the window. "Evangeline," she repeated the word to aim her thoughts forward, then spun back toward the door.

"Evangeline Ashenheart? Bloodthorn? Nightshade?"

A surname for every step and a stop. She scoffed loudly, sticking her tongue out. "What am I? Some broody teenager?"

She spun back to the window, taking three more steps.

"Softmourne, Willowshade, Rainswept!"

No, too... soft? Too whimsical. Another turn.

"Honeytouched?" Her steps abruptly halted halfway through the room, her face lighting up with heat. Eva instantly reached up to rub at her cheeks in a vain attempt to dissipate the fire threatening to burst out of her face. "Why would I even think such a word would be appropriate?" The question lingered in the air, and the answer came silently. There was another occupant in the room that she had not wanted to acknowledge, but now she felt her eyes pulling inexorably in their direction.

The small black bundle of cloth remained on the bed, looking like some dark hole that threatened to swallow her if she stared at it for too long.

"No," she warded off the damnable thing, her face growing hotter once more. "I am not… no, absolutely not." She shook her head, about to reach out for the thing and throw it out the window. Her fingers brushed against the deliciously soft silk, a shudder trailing up her arm.

Eva immediately recoiled, pulling away as if burned. "Surely this is some sort of prank from this… Kat… person. Why would anyone with a shred of self-respect insist on being called that? This must be some fabrication Dia made to trick me. Who would be insane enough to wear this!? Anyone caught in it would be called a…"

The word died on her lips, her expansive vocabulary failed to summon any one term that could even scratch at the depravity that innocuously lay on her bed. If anything she would need to combine several words. Even Kiara, the harlot queen that she was, would undoubtedly balk at it if she laid eyes on the thing.

Why, it wouldn't be hard to imagine the Succubus swearing off all things lascivious just to protect herself from such a wicked piece.

Through sheer will and concern, Eva pushed her eyes away from the blackness and towards the clothes she'd chosen to wear tonight.

It had taken her some exploration of the former Lord's abode, followed by tracking down the former servants who had maintained it. But Eva had eventually found something worthwhile. Granted, it was an ensemble that had been fashionable a decade ago, but it was the best thing an isolated place like Sinco could ever hope for.

It wasn't as if Rick knew about the trends of the court or cared for such things.

Hopefully.

"Evangeline… Cross?"

Of all the options, this one felt the most wrong. It was distasteful, and an insult no less. A Fledgling taking the name of their Lord? The scandal of suggesting it would’ve seen her executed on the spot anywhere else. Even ignoring that, she’d seen first hand Dia and Monica’s enthusiasm for the idea of being with child. She couldn’t claim to share the sentiment, so it was better off to avoid the matter entirely.

"I suppose I will continue to be solely Evangeline for the time being."

Never mind that the empty space following her name felt just as wrong as the discarded alternatives. But not everything could be solved in a single night, and there would be many things to worry over. The biggest concern was the dance. She’d lost count of how many maidens stumbled their way through a harvest festival proposal. Fortunately, Sinco was not a place where nobility would gather; even if she happened to stumble through something, it would only amount to a minor moment of embarrassment.

Hopefully.

She pushed those concerns away and focused on dressing up, taking the wraps of white silk and carefully binding her chest. Eva kept the cloth taut, but not uncomfortable. "Better than the alternative," she huffed. If there was one thing she was thankful for when it came to her figure, it was that she was graced with an elegant frame. Her body was mature, maintaining a healthy, waifish line, devoid of the heavy, pendulous weights Monica, Urtha, and Kiara swung around.

She had to imagine the other maidens used the weights as some sort of ballast or counterweight… another unnecessary thought. She shook her head and turned to the next item: a length of ochre lace.

With nimble fingers, she took her midnight long hair and split the mass into three. The process of weaving the locks into braids was a matter of unfortunate habit. But the memory of an empty bed and snide remarks was pushed aside. Today she would change the flavor of this skill. In true maiden fashion, her long hair was tightly wound into a delicate braided spiral, using the lace to lock it into place.

Eva took a moment, caressing the delicate work. It felt off, but right at the same time. Urtha had been the one to point out the folly of loose long hair, of how an enemy could easily yank it.

Next came the chemise. Soft white linen caressed her skin. The piece had been made for a man, fitting far too loosely on her frame, with billowing sleeves embroidered with small threads of gold. Eva carefully wrapped silver lace on her forearms and shoulders, then tightened the fitting-strings. The chemise was turned almost into a dress, overflowing past her hips and stopping just shy of fully covering her breeches.

Her eyes flickered at the black garment on the bed and hastily reached out for the aquamarine kirtle. Turning away from the blasted thing, she quickly constrained her torso with its lace fastenings and allowed the skirt to flutter down all the way to her ankles. She smiled a little at the silver threads that had been weaved into the piece. It was a depiction of interwoven flowers upon her flanks that trailed all the way down to the rolling hills that circled the bottom of the gown.

The piece held a secret, however. Going against convention, the skirt was joined in the middle, as if the dress was in fact an oddly shaped set of pant legs. She’d requested Miss Ahina to make the quick modification, and Eva found slight enjoyment in the cheeky modification. For all intents and purposes, the dress would look as such while she didn't move her legs too much.

It had been on an impulse, and the feeling of fabric between rather than the empty air that...

Eva’s hands gripped the cloth, glancing over her shoulder at the bed once more. She shuddered, and quietly wondered if she could perhaps add several more layers of protection onto herself. Turning her back fully to the enemy, she sat on the bed for the final piece of her ensemble. The red poulaines - little red shoes with a sharp upward facing tip - fit her a bit loosely, but she wrapped her feet with some cloth to solve that.

With the clothes rightfully in place, she snatched a berry and crushed it in her fingers, rubbing the juices against her lips.

For a moment, her eyes danced on the hennin, the tall blue veiled conical hat sitting on the bed, presenting her with a dilemma. On one hand, wearing it would definitely draw attention. Would it be the right kind, though? She considered it for a moment, then opted to leave it behind.

“Actually…” Lifting the hat, she placed it atop the black bundle, hiding it completely from view.

Just like that, the room felt a little lighter, and the tension in her shoulders a little lesser.

“Perfect.”

“Coward," a voice whispered from behind her.

Eva shrieked, plunging into the shadows, looking in every direction, ready for a fight.

There was snickering at the door, Dia standing there, smugly grinning at the shadow she'd plunged into.

“Since when could you cast a silencing spell?” Eva growled, emerging from the darkness with crossed arms and a glare.

“Not a spell, just a trick I learned from Monica,” came the reply, the healer smoothing out her brown uniform. The simple dress had been modified to include a white apron with a red cross.

“Monica?” She startled slightly.

“She won’t share her secrets freely. I’d recommend finding some honeyed meat.” She chuckled. “Speaking of, you made sure to feed?”

Eva growled. “Of course I did.” She’d gotten her fill out of Monica’s energy rich blood too. She didn’t want so much as a shred of thirst to peek out today of all days. Unfortunately it wasn't as if she could get rid of it entirely, it was always there, right at the edges, waiting for an opportunity to flare out. But at the very least being this full kept it as manageable as it could ever be.

“Good.” With a nod, she leaned over to the bed, toppling over the conical hat with a flick of her hand, revealing the black curse lying underneath. “And after all the trouble I went through…”

Eva bristled. “Those garments would be deemed despicable even in the privacy of one's own bedroom. There would be more dignity in nudity!”

The amusement only grew as she snatched the black clothes from the bed. There was so little cloth to be had that the entire ensemble barely overflowed out of the healer’s grip. Eva would've slapped the thing away, but the act might risk contact.

“Here.” Dia chuckled darkly, reaching for Eva’s skirt and finding the pocket, plunging her hand into it and leaving the blackness in it. “Keep them.”

“Why would I do such a thing!?”

The grin couldn’t grow any further, purple eyes twinkling with malice. “In case you get lucky.”

“If I had any luck, this thing would spontaneously combust the moment it comes into contact with the air again!” Eva hissed. “These clothes send the wrong message!”

“Fine, then hand them over.” Dia offered her empty hand. “I’ll put them on after my shift ends, get him to ravage me like a famished wild beast.”

The Fledgling’s hand hovered over the pocket, feeling the brush of fabric and its barely noticeable weight against her hip. The hand slowly clenched into a fist. “Do you not have better things to do?”

“Of course I do,” Dia snickered, her gaze flickering down to the pocket and then back up at Eva, shooting her a knowing grin. “I just came here to remind you that we’re sisters, and that you owe me big after today.”

“You’re only doing this to gain support against Kiara.”

As the former head of a noble house, Eva was no stranger to the existence of the seraglio, the maiden’s court. There was no shortage of cautionary tales about how nobles came to find their demise at the hands of the very maidens they’d trusted. Charmers in particular were the habitual villains in such stories, corrupting and twisting the seraglio into something that trapped the noble and ruled in their stead.

Now that Rick was building a power base, it was no surprise that a proper seraglio of his own would start to emerge.

“If you want to look at it that way.” The healer rolled her eyes, glancing at the Fledgling with bemusement. “It doesn't make convincing and coordinating everything so you’d have time alone with ‘the Lord’ any easier.” She raised her finger in warning. “I’m sure Monica would be quite happy to kidnap him for the day. Rick would be thankful for having an excuse not to attend the festival too.”

Eva cringed inwardly, her lips drawing into a line. She was right; Rick wasn’t exactly the most sociable. The Fledgling took a deep breath. “I appreciate your help.” For half a second, she was going to leave it at that, but she turned away, frowning. “To show this, I will divulge that Kiara is building a cage for him.”

“Excuse me?”

“These past few days, I’ve been… watching. Your focus has been on Rick and the people closest to him,” Eva rubbed her cheek. “Kiara’s focus has remained on everything that stretches beyond that. Her group has placed itself at the core of the militia as well as the other maidens Rick has bonded with but hasn’t approached. If she fortifies her position, there will be little you’ll be able to do in the city without her knowledge or approval.”

Technically speaking, Kiara was also looking to sink her claws into the tribe since they were the true fighting force of the city. That was a tough prospect since Urtha held a tight connection with them and she did not like the Succubus any. Even so, having eyes and ears patrolling every street and watching every gate was just as invaluable.

There was a moment of pause. Dia considered the words and nodded slowly. “Do you want to help me find some friends?”

“I…” She grimaced, then shook her head. “I’d need to think about it.”

She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to take part in it. If anything, her ideal would be to have a laboratory of her own, to not have to deal with internal politics or any such nonsense. Yet there was also a truth in that such politics couldn’t be ignored; not without possessing such power the other factions were meaningless. Eva agreed that neither of them could trust Kiara’s intentions, yet Dia held a clear disposition towards going behind Rick’s back if she thought it necessary.

“Right, you have other things to focus on right now.” The smile returned easily. The healer patted Eva’s hip, right where the little bundle rested. “The other reason I came here was to give you this.”

Dia handed her a collar.

> [[Break point 1]]

It was impossible to mistake it for anything other than a bond-collar. Blue, a symbol meant for a maiden that had recently gained an owner. Eva caressed the leather, the inside of the seam was threaded with silver-silk inlays. The enchantment’s design was a decade old, but the serial notches near the buckle indicated it’d been woven three years ago. The metal was scratched, indicating wear, but the enchantment was at full capacity, practically new. This would’ve been impossible under normal circumstances.

Rick was anything but normal, however.

“This is yours,” Eva concluded, glancing at the healer.

“In small villages, it’s customary for the older sister to give her collar to the newer maiden.” She smiled ruefully. “You can keep it if you want to stick to tradition. Or not.” Her fingers brushed against her exposed throat, eyes twinkling. “I think I’m going to try something new. Not like having a collar makes a difference when it comes to Rick.”

No collar? Was she insinuating she was no different from a human?

Eva scoffed inwardly but kept the reproach to herself. Carefully she took the collar, finding a spot near the base of the buckle, and bit down until she pierced through with her fang. She checked it again, to confirm the important parts remained intact.

“What was that for?” Dia frowned.

“Collars made in the kingdom are keyed towards submission. The design sends a few weak pulses into the maiden’s aura whenever the collar is latched into place.” Eva spat out the bit of leather. “A common misconception is that your feelings when forming the bond changes the nature of the bond.”

The healer glanced at the collar for a moment. “The pulse makes it harder for maidens that don’t want to submit when bonding… it’s designed to fight wildlings.”

Eva nodded absently. It was part of the intent to be sure, but there was an extra bit of genius to it. A maiden’s aura was nothing to scoff at. When in direct contact with their skin, something as simple as “resisting” the enchantment would damage the device. The collar’s expected lifespan thereafter would be reduced to merely a third or even a fourth.

Carefully, Eva raised her chin and latched the piece. The buckle smoothly clicked shut. Though she couldn’t feel its inner workings, she could easily visualize it. How the locking of the collar allowed the first transference circuit to light up with the energy from her aura. How it would feed the rest of the enchantment, failing to empower the pulse-area, and quickly detecting the presence of a strong bond. Following this, the collar would deem there was no need for wasteful efforts and shut down until the next time.

“I think I’ll try a more traditional approach,” Eva proclaimed with a little nod.

“Best of luck. You’ll have the house to yourselves until noon tomorrow,” she winked. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

That did not narrow things down any, and Eva suspected that in some aspects, the Rapha could be far worse than any Succubus. Watching her leave, she smoothed out her dress, checked herself over one last time.

And hesitated at the fist-sized bulge of cloth that pressed against her hip.

The thought was promptly discarded, though the forbidden luggage remained exactly where Dia had left it. Eva marched outside and tried to focus on anything else other than the bomb that was at her hip.

Fortunately, the sun dangled overhead, biting at her pale skin. Resisting the temptation to jump into some shadow helped broaden her senses, turning her attention to the world around her.

This was somewhat of a mistake, for the city around her was paying plenty of attention to her. Not all of it was good.

At first, the crowd that had been heading to the city square had thrown curious looks her way. Perhaps they were wondering where someone like her might have come from. It quickly turned into suspicion when one of the children pointed at her red eyes. There wasn't a panic, but the change was instantaneous.

"Cursed." At the whispered word, parents pulled their children away and maidens kept themselves firmly between her and their humans.

Eva kept the sigh to herself. This was expected. She was a Fledgling, a threat. Eva's existence was like a spell; one that just might summon a monster that could rob you of more than just your life. It wasn't they who were afraid of her, it was the Vampire that danced in their imaginations. It was Rick's nonchalant attitude that was out of place.

The sting was not something she pushed through. It was not her place to concern herself with the opinions of commoners. The feeling reminded her of her conversation with Kiara, and it fueled her desire to deny it all the more. Why would anyone willingly become either a Ghoul or a Vampire? One was worse than the other, certainly, but they were both a stain upon the world.

Turning her down had been the right choice.

She raised her head high and marched onward.

With the sun moving towards the horizon, the number of people was slowly increasing. The quiet distancing that the others were trying to maintain was slowly losing ground due to their numbers. Conversations were breaking out, cheer and jovial tones hanging at the edges past the first layer of maidens that kept their eyes on her.

It brought back the memory of the first proper end-of-summer festival. It hadn’t been that long ago… Couldn’t have been more than a decade, maybe? The memory was fuzzy, one of a handful of memories that had been eroded by the feral curse. She’d been fortunate to have spent just a month or so under its influence; otherwise, the memory might have been entirely gone.

She still vividly remembered the velvet rug under her clumsy shoes and the soft instrumental song in the background. What had she worn? Not a skirt, that was for sure.

Though she wasn’t wearing one now either. She chuckled at herself, earning more than a few odd looks. She ignored them as she continued into the plaza to take everything in. Rather than the expected campfires, the streets were lit up by the dim blue glow of magelights. A quick glance confirmed they were from Thorley’s mansion, salvaged and repurposed for the event.

Tables had been arrayed, decked with cooked foods, a significant part of which was meat. Fire-pits sat comfortably near these tables, each one manned by a Hobgoblin or some other fire-capable maiden. The air was thick with the smell of the feast, a smell Eva imagined would be mouth-watering for most everyone else. She might be unable to find enjoyment in the meals, but they still proved a mild source of amusement. The citizens had to struggle between remaining wary about her and turning their attention to the food and drink.

Invariably, the meats and sweets would win over any hesitation.

Eva frowned slightly at the subtle way the tables and entertainments had been arrayed. Typically, festivals would have the maidens enjoying themselves in one area, while a second separate area would be meant for humans. Mingling between both sides was typically kept to specific areas where it could occur safely.

The current arrangement was clearly someone else’s idea, Rick's? Or maybe the tribe was responsible for this. Either way, the distribution resulted in peculiar interactions. The maidens that were of Sinco would stick near and around their humans, while those of the tribe or bonded to Rick would move around freely. It was as if the plaza had become an archipelago, each ‘island’ being a family unit.

What it might become as the festival progressed, Eva couldn’t imagine.

For a moment, she tried to consider how the old her would have reacted and behaved had they been in such a circumstance. But she was quick to dispel the thought before it could take root and give her a headache.

Since that night when they had slain the Seraph, Eva had spent her time distancing herself from Rick. It was the only way for her to think clearly, or so she had told herself. Yet every time she pulled away from her past self, doubt would seep into her and build mountains she could not climb.

Because it all boiled down to a singular truth: she couldn't recognize herself anymore. If they were separate entities, Evans Bavtha would have had Evangeline killed on the spot.

She still wasn't sure what to make of that. Was she disappointed in her present? In her past? Both?

A squeal drew her attention. There was a large wooden contraption near the center of the square. She immediately recognized it as the "flying" mechanism the Mousegirls had recently taken a shine to.

Currently, the maiden attached to the end of the arm was wearing a copper helmet and wielding a blunt-tipped spear. Meanwhile, the "floating" maiden was surrounded by five others, all geared in soot-stained armor and wielding oversized black mittens. All six of them danced in a mock battle, with the copper Mousegirl keeping herself on the move, jumping and striking from above.

Eventually, a mitten would land its hit, leaving a blackened mark on the "hero". The group would take a pause, whoever had landed the attack trading places with the one on the contraption. With the exchange of their roles and gear, the battle would start anew.

It all played out in an overly exaggerated dance, with the participants squealing, shrieking, screaming, and grunting in overly loud sounds. Whenever a Mousegirl was struck, she wouldn't just tumble to the ground "dead," she would let out a horrified sound, convulsing as she slowly dropped to her knees. It was a game in two parts, one to see who could take and keep the bronze armor the longest, the other to find the most convoluted way to portray defeat.

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

After a few minutes, they would stop, huddle together to exchange words, and the next round would begin. Except in the new round there would be changes, shifts in their performance to improve on the bombastic nature of it.

Slightly amused, she moved on to wander about. She wanted to talk to Rick, but as lord of the city, he would undoubtedly be extremely busy right now. She had some time she could waste until the festival proper began.

A thrum of drum-beats began from a corner of the plaza. The sound drew the crowd’s attention, and Eva followed along to get a closer look.

The young maidens were barely holding back. It was a demonstration much like the Mousegirl’s, but with no exaggerations. Each blow carried enough force that a lesser maiden would've been reduced to a heap of broken bones.

Was this some sort of ritual, or was it something new Rick had introduced? She was vaguely aware that the young Orcs had caused some trouble for Rick since they were on the prowl for a husband.

Maybe she’d get to find out the details once things had smoothed out again. The prospect of being around Rick again left a flutter in her stomach. Eva quickly looked around in search of the dance area. She might have to wait a while, but until he showed up, she might as well familiarize herself with the local ways.

A moment of panic followed when she couldn’t find one.

The carefully laid plan was already failing, and she hadn’t even taken the first step!

Eva took a deep breath. “No, no, there’s bound to be a dance eventually. It just hasn’t started yet.” It was a small reassurance, but it helped. Still, the question now gnawed at her. If there was to be no dance, then how could she possibly move forward in swaying Rick’s attention?

There was pressure on her hip from something in her pocket that shouldn't be there. A silky touch that promised a great deal of things. Chills coursed through Eva as she shoved the thoughts down before they could whisper anything into her ear. Determined to keep focused on the task at hand, she continued her wandering.

She spotted a few more “displays” with maidens competing in one form or another.

A few Doggirls from the militia had gathered to put on a show, wielding spears and shields. Some Elves had set up a small archery range, while others of their kind handled tables that contained particularly bountiful fruits and vegetables. Mousegirls were showing off little trinkets of metal. Overhead, the Neigix were in the middle of a race of some sort. One even had a scattering of different breeds, reading stories to children from a book.

It didn’t quite feel like a festival, at least not in the sense she remembered.

Rather, it looked more akin to a dozen little displays. They were showing off.

Eva cocked her head as she tried to take in the larger picture of this event. She’d missed much, having tried to avoid just about everyone unless strictly necessary. Most of the past few weeks had been spent on her own, trying to delve into herself, to figure herself out.

In the end, it had amounted to confusion. There were many things about herself that she no longer knew with certainty. Her conversation with Kiara had given her a strong hint, however. Fledglings were creatures that hungered, and those that neither indulged nor denied it would remain Fledglings. Eva suspected this applied to more than just blood, but as with anything pertaining to ascensions, it was impossible to be sure.

Regardless, she’d made her choice: a life of moderation. There was neither need nor want to become either Ghoul or Vampire. As far as Eva was concerned, she would proudly spend the remainder of her mortal lifespan as a Fledgling, knowing she had not betrayed humanity.

Her scattered thoughts were brought back to the festival at the sound of a horn. The drums slowed, then stopped, and all eyes turned to the southern edge of the plaza where two giants stepped forward.

Urtha and Monica were impossible to miss, both standing nearly twice the height of most others in the city square. The crowd urgently parted before them. Urtha was dressed in little more than splatterings of red paint and a loincloth, wearing a ceremonial crown of burning wood atop her head. The maiden walked while holding a spear that looked more like a repurposed tree trunk, the wood twice as thick as Eva was wide and half over taller than Urtha herself. The weapon too was on fire, and looked more ceremonial than useful.

Yet as imposing as Urtha was, it was Monica that drew gasps from the crowd.

The mostly nude maiden was carrying two stacks of purple silk, each nearly as tall as Eva. The fabric had a rich sheen, the lavender glimmering under the magelight. Eva could only gawk at the sight of it, never before had she seen this much imperial purple in a single place! It was impossible that Thorley could’ve kept such a treasure without everyone in the kingdom knowing about it. To possess such a stash of luxurious cloth would’ve made the former noble the most sought-after at any court!

It was almost an afterthought that she noticed Rick and Kiara had been trailing behind the two giants. The crowd had not noticed either of them, at least not until the procession had come to a halt near the center. There, Rick walked up to the small platform, the two piles of silk placed at either side of him.

The silence that overtook the city square was crushing, all eyes were upon the Lord.

“You know who I am. Each and every one of you. I am a stranger; this is not the land I was born in. I am an otherworlder.” He waited for a beat, black eyes sweeping over the crowd, pausing ever so slightly upon Eva before continuing on their way. “Yet you took me in. We killed the tyrant, and we shared that which he’d robbed you of. We grew crops, and we shared food. We stood together against the wildlings, and we won!”

His words drew a roar from the tribe, the rest responding no less enthusiastically, though not quite as widely. Rick waited, quietly watching the crowd until silence fell once more.

"After all that we have accomplished, I stand before you with a promise. A promise of change. But change is not easy. Change is a challenge to face the unknown head-on. Let this be the symbol of that promise." He reached out for one of the stacks and pulled out the first item. The purple cloth fluttered in the air, a triangular piece that shimmered like an amethyst. A symbol was embroidered in gold upon its surface, the same three circles that adorned Rick’s chest. His emblem. “If you wish to share this burden, then step forward and take it!”

> [[Break point 2]]

The first to move was Urtha. The Orc turned to take a spot in front of the platform and knelt, exposing her throat. Rick reached out and tied the cloth around her neck, and the maiden stepped away.

“The tribe accepts this burden!” she roared. “We will see to the future!” Her eyes twinkled as she focused on one Orc in particular. Eva figured it was the pregnant one and rolled her eyes, filtering out the roar of cheers from the tribe.

Next in line was Kiara, dressed in fine green silk, her head crowned by a silver hennin, the conical hat adding a full head to her height. Just like Urtha, the cloth was tied around her neck, but the Succubus stole a peck from Rick before turning to the crowd.

“I stand with my Lord! Let Sinco walk into a new prosperity!” she declared, and many of the humans cheered alongside Kiara’s own followers.

Next came Rollo, followed by Yasir. The other humans of note quickly hurried to be first in line, and soon just about every Orc had joined, followed by the "orphans." With a growing number of people wearing the imperial purple neckerchief, the crowd quickly boiled over, cries and shouts surging. Eva restrained her own impulse to jump into the throng, eyes fixed on Rick as the Lord was joined by ten others to try and distribute the cloth to as many people as possible.

The tribe, amongst the first in line, quickly became the enforcers to ensure everyone else didn’t get too rowdy. The militia joined in right after.

Soon, just about everyone was trying to get their hands on one of the cloths. Regardless of what they might think of Rick, only the grandest of idiots would pass up the opportunity to own such an item.

Eva had waited until the enthusiasm had become something more orderly before joining the line. She mentally prepared herself for what she’d say, but, when she got closer, Rick wasn’t there. The man appeared to have vanished entirely. Instead, it had been Yasir who’d approached to gift her the purple cloth.

“Your hand, if you would,” he declared, and he placed a stroke of black ink on the back of her hand. “Our Lord worked my dearest Ahina until her chitin lost all its shine,” he whispered as he tied the cloth around Eva’s neck. “But never before has she been so proud! She’s kept my ear hot from all the praise she has for the dyes our Lord has made.”

“I’ll make sure to thank her for her craftsmanship,” she said. She caressed the silk; the smooth coolness was a pleasant sensation against the lingering summer heat in the air. “Where’s the Lord?”

“He had to step away for a moment.” He accompanied his words with a gesture of his head towards the southern edge of the square. “Perhaps you’ll find him over there.”

With a brief thanks, Eva set off. All around her, the crowd wore imperial purple, a color that might have been forbidden by law if not for how impossible it was to obtain. Until now. The very cloth now tied around her neck could easily sell for a laborer’s annual income!

Her thoughts spun just from the thought of how much Rick had just given away like some sort of...

Eva’s steps slowed; she glanced at the crowd. A sense of unease washed over her as she watched. Nearly every maiden and human walking around wore the same cloth as her. It was impossible to spot the bond collars underneath.

Or if there was a collar at all.

She could discern some things if she focused—human women wore finer clothes and had a distinct scent about them. But it was impossible to tell the difference between a gold-collared matron and a black-collared feralborn at a glance.

As if they were all equal.

The Fledgling hastily dismissed the thought and continued her way towards Rick. She found a small tent that had been erected just outside the reach of the magelight. Monica sat with her legs crossed in front of the tent, happily eating her way through a pile of meat. Honeyed meat. The Sabertooth barely gave Eva a flick of her ear, the Fledgling acknowledged with a nod in kind as she approached and came to a halt at the flap.

“My Lord?” she asked, ignoring the discomfort of not being able to sense anything past the thin layer of cloth in front of her. This was standard, this was normal; no self-respecting Lord would erect a tent others could pry upon.

With no response, and no reaction from Monica, she stepped through.

The first thing she noticed was the humming. Rick’s voice drifted through the divider. “When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow…” The voice slowed, then stopped. “Eva? Give me a moment, just getting into something more comfortable.”

Of course, he’d sense her now that she was this close. The man had taken to the freakish nature of his bond like he’d been born with the invisible limb attached.

Thoughts of studying the wonder were drowned out by a thousand images involving the thing in her pocket. It was practically burning like a red-hot coal that begged her to pull it out and don. Eva urgently tried to dispel the thought, but she’d somehow found the courage to march past the divider during that fleeting distraction.

Both of them froze, they stared at each other. Rick stood there wearing nothing but black pants, hand paused halfway to a white tunic. Eva’s eyes traversed up the arm, to his broad shoulders, following the damp ebony hair caressing his neck, and up into those midnight eyes.

Her throat tightened and the contents in her pocket multiplied its own weight. It begged her to come out. Her mind scrambled. “Do you dance?” She’d blurted out the two words and barely restrained herself from slapping her own mouth shut. “Do people dance in your world?” She quickly corrected, prying her eyes away, trying to ignore the lingering metallic scent hanging in the air.

His brow arched, shoulders relaxing as the outstretched hand moved to his hip. “Kind of yes, and mostly yes.”

“Oh good,” Eva spoke her thoughts out loud, sighing out in relief. “Would you-” Wait. How could she be sure the dances of his world and this one matched? She’d heard some of the songs he’d hum from time to time. The rhythm rarely matched anything she’d heard in a ballroom. It was closer to some sort of marching song. Quickly switching strategies, she straightened out. “Could you teach me to dance in the way of your people? My Lord?”

Rick seemed to consider for a moment, snatching the tunic and putting it on. “What are you looking for? I’m a bit rusty, but there’s a lot of variety-”

“Wooing.” This time she did slap her hand over her mouth.

What was wrong with her? Where was this coming from? No, she knew exactly where it was coming from. The weight in her pocket still burned, whispering promises and twisting her imagination in wild ways. It just couldn’t be possible the thing was something from his world, it had to be a prank.

Maybe if she learnt of how they danced to woo another, then maybe…

“Someone caught your eye?” His tone was light, but his eyes were heavy. “I guess I could-”

Eva immediately stepped forward. “NO!” It was shrill, a bit too loud; she flinched. “No, just… you. I want to dance with you.” She swallowed heavily, bowing her head. “If you would have me, my Lord.”

The silence that followed gnawed at her, but she endured it.

Finally, Rick let out a groan. “I’m going to kill her.” She dared to raise her head to look at him as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, no, I’ve got…” He turned to her, his gaze fierce. She could hear his heartbeat rise. “Were you looking to dance in private?”

“W-what?”

“Are you alright with me teaching you with others watching?”

Of course she was; that had been the point. Had he expected them to dance here with no music? But something else bothered her. “What did you mean earlier? Kill who?”

“Dia said you were looking for someone else to bond with.”

The growl escaped her before she could think to restrain it, fangs bared, hands open to reveal sharp claws. Eva glared; the burst of fury that had blossomed within her was startling, but she did not reject it. She could see with cold certainty what it was that had happened, how the healer might have thought this a way to give Rick a “good” surprise. Or perhaps Dia had thought it a way to prepare the groundwork in case she did choose to leave in the end.

Most likely both.

It did not make the anger any lesser. All this talk about sisterhood and now this!? Had she thought Eva wouldn't find out!? And Kiara had been no better, trying to coerce her into an accursed deal! Left and right, “best intentions” were being used to disguise a desire for control.

“You might want to take a breath.”

“I will not!” She stomped her foot, glowering. Though her anger did relent a little when her focus finally fixed on Rick once more. “Tell me what you have thought!” A shake of her head. “What did you have in mind?!”

“It’s just a dance,” he answered, a cheeky grin upon his lips that betrayed everything that went unsaid. “Something to draw a bit of attention.”

> [[Break point 3]][🍋]

Eva’s eyes locked on his lip, the scar that had been left from her fangs. An insidious thought was taking form. The anger took a new course, turning her mind to a singular thing that was still pressed against her hip. A flush rose to her face, but she summoned every bit of strength within herself to reach down and grasp it.

“Then I will dress appropriately… t-t-to draw attention.” She faltered for half a second, half formed thoughts tumbling together. Dia’s parting words punched into her. “I… will need your help, however.”

“Help?”

Before her courage could fail her, she thrust her hand forward and put the accursed black bundle of cloth in his hand. “I am uncertain of how to wear… this.”

At first he scowled at it, but as he began to unfurl it, his eyes kept widening until they threatened to pop out of his skull. “Where did you get this?”

Eva inhaled sharply. “I only need to know if it’s something that would be worn in your world.” A slight tremble followed, she swallowed hard. “And… whether you would deem it appropriate for your… plan.”

Now it was his turn to hesitate. “This… uh… I mean, it’d be… pushing things.”

His heart was hammering like a drum now, his blood rushing to add a dusting of color to his face, breath quickening. His eyes flickered from the clothes he held to her, and in that moment she knew exactly what he was imagining. Because she was thinking it too, picturing how the clothes would fit on her.

Rick swallowed. “Are you sure?” His words carried a growl to them. She’d never heard him use that tone before. There was hesitation and concern, yet it was heavy with anticipation.

In that moment she found a surge of courage. “I-I will wear it.” Never mind that her face was hot enough it just might burst into flames. Or that her voice warbled and squeaked.

Her hands trembled as she moved to undress, undoing the knots as hastily as she could. Her movements were rushed, eyes decidedly averted from Rick. She had to move through this quickly, or she just might lose her nerve and…

“Slow down.” His hands gripped her own.

Just like that, all the courage left her. Eva couldn’t move, couldn’t look up at him. Emotion after emotion was mounting within her, threatening to explode out in every direction. She tried to speak, but even her voice faltered. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, she wanted to run away. Rick didn’t let her do any of those things, pulling her head against his chest instead.

The sound of his galloping heart drowned out all other thoughts. This close, she could almost taste his blood, the thought made her mouth water. There was something new to his scent, a touch of excitement that had not been there before. It urged her to move.

“I want this.” She finally found the words, though she wasn’t talking about the clothes. Eva pulled her fists away from his grasp, hands shaking. “It’s just about the only thing I know for sure. I want this so much it hurts, and I’m rushing in blind, and it-I-they-”

“Close your eyes.” He took a deep breath as he spoke, a gesture she mirrored. “I don’t know what’s going through your head.”

Right, because the bond, the bond, the bond. He could see right through her, read her emotions like a book. But not the thoughts. Not the damnable thoughts that could be so much better if she could just plaster them on his face rather than need the courage to utter the words.

“You have time,” he said gently. “Breathe, ground yourself, let the air out.”

Eva opened her mouth to complain, to shout him off, but stopped before she could ruin the night before it had started. A second deep breath followed.

“Another.”

A deeper shuddering breath, her body leaned closer into his arms. He was so warm, the thumping of his heart so loud…

“There you go.” As if in afterthought, he caressed her ear, tucking a strand of hair behind it.

Eva didn’t move, but she remembered Yasir’s words. About how Rick’s thoughts were always loudest through his hands… the boldest idea in her life bubbled up unperturbed, seemingly summoned into existence by the black clothes still within arm’s reach. “I’d like you to undress me,” she whispered into his chest. “Please.”

His heart skipped a beat, she could hear it like a drum that had missed a note. But it didn’t slow his touch any, fingers moving down her slender neck in a reassuring caress. “Ok,” he whispered. Only then did they move away from one another, enough for him to see what he was doing.

His eyes were shimmering with a mix of wonderment and concern. It was as if he couldn’t see anything but her. Suddenly Eva was very concerned he might be able to hear the way her heart was drumming against her chest.

With a whisper of cloth, her kirtle hit the floor, leaving her legs bare. She closed her eyes, focusing on his touch. The Lord’s hands lingered on her shoulders, his thumb drawing circles against the linen chemise. Even standing at this distance, she could hear his heart; it hadn’t slowed any. Trailing down her flanks, he didn’t grip the bottom edge of her shirt. Her breath hitched at the feeling of his palms against her bare waist, he trailed his hands up. She raised her hands, and his fingers brushed all the way to her palms.

Even when he wasn’t touching her she could feel his warmth, she was standing in front of a fire. “Guess we have to take this off if you want to put on the…”

“I do.” She reinforced, if only to hear her own determination. It was easier to ignore what lay outside her reach when she couldn’t see. Eva made a point to keep her arms raised above her head.

Rick’s fingers dug into the silk wraps, finding the tuck and letting it loose. This time his touch lingered against her ribs as her chest was released in fullness. His heart quickened and so did hers, the cool air teased at her, but she willed herself not to react outwardly.

At least until his fingers moved down to her hips and her breeches were dropped against all else. Eva froze, her breath hitching into a small gasp. She could hear his heart pumping wildly, his breath growing deeper. The heat of his presence burned against her skin, a red-hot invisible force that trailed from her chest down to her groin.

Yet his hands lingered on her hips, fingers digging into her skin.

If she opened her eyes, she knew something would happen. Something wonderful or terrible, but something she wouldn’t be able to escape. There was a hesitant reassurance to be found in this fact, that Dia hadn’t been wrong about him wanting her.

“We shouldn’t dawdle,” she whispered.

Rick didn’t move, not for a full second. She could sense his gaze had shifted to her lips. Could he smell the crushed berries just as she could smell the steel in his scent? “You’re right,” he acknowledged after an eternity, his hands finally releasing the death-grip that had been holding her hips in place.

Silk brushed against her arms, strings falling against her shoulders.

“Tell me their name.” Eva’s voice carried a mix of a command and a plea, her eyes tightly shut, arms still raised, not moving a muscle. She wanted to know more.

“The first is a string bikini top,” he answered, leaning closer to whisper into her ear. “Women use it at the beach.”

“Th-that is… very indecent.” Her face was sure to be glowing right now, but she couldn’t move, not anymore, not while under his touch. “H-How hot is your world? To need such… exposure.”

“Not much different from this one.” The two soft triangular paddings were caps to cover the peaks of her chest. Eva wanted him to touch her there, but his fingers followed the string instead, tying knots behind her neck and at the center of her back. “Normally a bikini is made from nylon. Silk is less elastic.”

Was that comment meant to hint at something? The thought went unfinished when the next sensation trailed its way up her thighs. The fabric hugged her crotch snugly, yet leaving a string splitting her rear in two. Eva let out a squeak, clenching when his hands lingered on her exposed bottom. She’d been right to assume this piece was worse than being naked, it caressed and teased her in very specific lurid ways.

“This is a thong.” Rick squeezed appreciatively, and Eva made a second startled sound. “You’ve got great legs by the way.” His compliment burned in her face and all the way down her neck. His fingers tied knots at either hip before giving her a playful tap. “The next part is the fishnet crop-top.”

She locked on the word, summoning a scowl. "One can only imagine why anyone would think a net to be apt clothing." She barely felt the piece as it slid down her arms and over her head. It titillated against her skin, but only when she moved.

"Perhaps it was meant to symbolize the wearer is quite the catch."

With a groan, she opened her eyes to glare up at him.

His lips sealed her mouth, stealing her breath greedily, his hands wrapped around her hips, he grabbed her bottom with ferocity. Suddenly, she was pinned against the post that held the tent in place. She was melting, moaning into his mouth, her hips seeking friction against his skin. His hands were everywhere, gripping, squeezing, caressing, touching.

Owning.

Was this the effect of the clothes? A Succubus’ spell upon any who laid eyes on it? Eva groaned into his mouth, thrusting her tongue to invade past his lips. Why had she denied herself this for so long?

Rick pulled away as abruptly as he’d lunged, spittle glistening his lips. The man was smiling smugly, holding an ochre piece of lace. There was amusement in those eyes, but she could see his desire to jump right back in, barely restrained.

Her hair tumbled down, tickling her shoulders and back. Eva’s steamy thoughts cooled enough for her to frown. "How…? You shouldn't be this quick." Or had they been kissing for longer than she’d thought? A soft touch against her throat confirmed the collar had been removed as well.

Rick ignored her question, leaning close once more. His fingers dug into her hair, tying the long ebony strands with the purple cloth. "Only the miniskirt is left."

His tone was one that begged her to refuse. She could see it in the way he couldn't avert his gaze from her overly exposed body. He wanted to undress her right there and then. No, not just undressing. He wanted to tear everything off of her and pin her to the ground. It was as if he was halfway to becoming a beast.

Unfortunately for him, she wanted to experience more of this… whatever this was. She wanted to feel more, to get drunk in this strange emotion.

"Then we're not finished," she proclaimed.

The thing was barely more than a belt, just a thick black band of silk that formed a circle. Her legs slid into the fabric, he pulled it up. The fabric squeezed her thighs together as it tightened against her rear. It was only once it was in place that Eva realized the wicked nature of the piece. The "miniskirt" covered even less than her breeches would, barely reaching halfway down her thigh. She had to move carefully, one slip and her rump would be visible for the world to see.

Eva had been naked in front of Rick on more than one occasion, yet not once had she felt this exposed to his gaze. The intensity of his eyes was making her head swim. “What… what is this ensemble called?”

"If I were to be polite, I'd call it a rave attire..." His answer was slightly elusive, his gaze still burning her up and through.

With a slight twist of her hip, she exposed a bit more of her thighs to him. "And if you weren't?"

"I'd say you're borderline slutty goth." He twitched, as if about to pounce on her, breath tight, heart racing.

Slutty.

The word cracked the spell, they both swallowed as if realizing what he'd just said. Anyone with a semblance of dignity or pride would've found the proclamation to warrant a stern response. All Eva could think about was wanting to go back to that kiss and have him tear her clothes off as she returned the favor. World and pride be damned. Yet there was a paperthin truce between them, and both of them were waiting for the other to be the one to break it.

Rick took his turn to steer them into any direction that wasn't a direct crash course against one another. “Here,” he took her hand and led her deeper into the tent, past the second divider. “I want to show you something.”

She wanted to complain; the exit was in the other direction. But all thoughts were chased away when she saw the object currently occupying the center of the room. A mirror, one as tall as she was. The object was angled away from them. Only a handful of steps and she’d see herself.

The prospect was one that gripped her chest with ice and fire.

“The hard part was figuring out the reducing agent,” Rick spoke with a hint of pride. He didn’t realize his hand was still gripping hers, that he was pulling her into view, dooming her to forever remember what ‘slutty’ meant exactly. “I had to use some wine and mix it with…”

His words washed over Eva. She wasn’t paying attention, not when she saw the maiden on the other side of the glass. Porcelain skin and ivory towers for legs, the void-colored silk skirt served less to conceal and more to tease at what lay beneath. Her belly button marked the center of a valley where her hips peeked at the southern edges. She was made of curves, a modest chest fully on display, her own nipples seeking to pierce through what little cloth there was.

This… this was her?

This was her.

Long fingers moved tentatively, caressing their way down the center of her chest. Each string in the net was a bump on the way down. She kept going, floating over the silk skirt and reaching for her thighs. Carefully, tentatively, her touch tugged at the skirt ever so slightly. A black mound peeked underneath, the front of the thong, and the only obstruction to what little modesty remained.

No, that was wrong.

There was no modesty to be had.

Slutty.

Her cheeks grew hot, the redness of her face traversed down her throat. In the mirror, her flushed face stared back with watery eyes full of desire. She bit her lip and shivered. There was nothing but lust in those ruby-red pools Eva called eyes.

She was on display, a bed warmer.

She might have been mistaken for a Succubus.

Was… was this what she truly wanted?

Every time she’d had these thoughts, she’d shied away, escaped. Now she understood there was a distinction to be had. She didn’t enjoy the thought of these clothes, nor what they represented. But she could not deny the allure of their effect on Rick, there was no running away from the fire inside her.

Rick had ended the explanation, reaching out to grasp her hips from behind. His touch turned the fire into an inferno. In the mirror, his figure towered over her own, looking directly at her through the glass with hunger. “You wanted to learn a dance from my world, right?” His breath was hot and ticklish against her ear. “One meant to woo?”

She’d wanted to do that, hadn’t she? Her thoughts had kept slipping through her grasp ever since she’d stepped into the tent. She’d wanted a long conversation, to impress him with her knowledge and reveal her feelings. And maybe…

Except it wasn’t “maybe” anymore. It was front and center, looking at her from the mirror.

Her thoughts scattered when his grip tightened. His voice turned into a wordless rhythm, humming a tune into her ear. With a tiny shift of his grip, he urged her right foot half a step to the side and then pulled the left one back. Then he urged her back to the center, repeating it on the opposite side.

The dance pattern was simplicity itself.

Eva couldn’t care less where her feet went, not with her hip grinding in circles under the guidance of his hands. The song was a soft teasing thing, her whole body pulled into movement. Her thighs caressed one another with every step, the thong and the bikini worked in tandem to stoke the fires inside her.

Was this their purpose?

Perhaps Rick hadn’t grown this lustful out Kiara influencing him. Eva was starting to suspect his world was far more lurid.

“Good, you learn fast.” His voice was a husky growl. “Let’s go a little faster, take a proper pace.”

The speed increased, the maiden gasped, eyes locked on her reflection. Her hands rested on top of his own, her whole body flowing from one step to the next. There was no control to be had; she followed his lead without hesitation. The maiden in the mirror opened her mouth to breathe softly, thrusting her body to the rhythm of his muttered song. She was on display for him exclusively, chest pushed forward for stability, the gyrations of her hips teasing the heat underneath.

“What… what is this?” She whimpered, heart beating wildly and not from the strain.

“Salsa.”

The word reverberated through his voice and slid right through her slippery thoughts. The woman in the reflection cocked her hips back, feeling his warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt. The threads of the netting around her torso squeezed and pinched, delivering delicious teasing caresses throughout; everything about her was ablaze.

Eva tried to think of what should come next and could only draw blanks. Instead of action, emotion took over.

“I want you.” It was the only certain thing right now. If she needed to step outside to get more of him, then she’d jump in a heartbeat. But she also didn’t want to have him take another step away from her.

He didn’t speak; he leaned down, his hot breath burning against her skin. Rick bit down on her shoulder, and lightning shot through her system. Eva’s eyes were wide, her mouth split open in a quiet, choked groan. The man stared back at her through the mirror, his gaze full of nothing but hunger.

Like he was a beast and she prey.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” the thought rooted itself into her mind, she couldn’t shake it off.

Her body shuddered, and he let go, just so he could better lean over her shoulder and bite the side of her neck. A white noise was overtaking all thought; her body became limp. It was only through his gnashing teeth and boiling hands that she remained standing at all.

The woman in the mirror stared back, her eyes devoid of anything but a deep longing for more.

A thought bubbled above the oozing pleasure, suddenly she wasn’t looking at herself anymore. In the reflection, Rick stood in her place. It was her biting him, draining him, sucking the essence out of his body. The weak human was the prey, she was the huntress. Her man moaned, begging for more, wanting nothing but her, no one but her.

It was a desperate attempt by her instinct to enforce what it thought to be the proper order of things.

Eva didn’t hesitate in denying it. The Fledgling pushed herself deeper into Rick’s embrace. She wasn’t a monster, he was no meat for her convenient consumption.

A second image quickly took its place.

This one had her gone from the reflection; in her place was a human, someone else, a faceless woman. Someone more deserving of attention, of affection. It was a homely woman, dressed in fine silk pants and proper attire and fashion. It was a woman who cooed softly, inviting her Lord to do more, to plant his seed within her.

Now it was propriety trying to impose itself, to declare that which was the right order.

It brought a pang inside her chest, a moment of hesitation, but again she denied it. Eva’s hands grasped Rick’s, pulling him closer, refusing to let him go. She wanted him, wanted him to be hers.

Her mind took a moment longer to summon the third image.

In it, she was there, older, a matron. Her hips were ample, her legs beautiful and long, her face showing the first true signs of age. In this reflection, an older Rick pressed his hands upon her shoulders, she knelt. From the ground, she looked up at him in abject devotion. There was nothing in those eyes but meek obedience.

The image was of a pet by any other name.

This… she didn’t know where this one came from. Was it from her past? Some lost idea over what a maiden ought to be?

It gave her pause, a proper pause. There was a wrongness in it, like in the previous two, but she couldn’t immediately see why. The increased age wasn’t it, and she was certain it had been that exact look in her eyes the last time she’d drank from Rick. Why did this image bother her so much more than the others had?

Eva barely noticed that Rick’s hands had slowed down to a stop, or how he was watching her quietly. He spoke her name, but she didn’t listen, stepping closer to the mirror. The woman on the other side, the woman her imagination was feeding her, was mature, older by at least a decade, shamelessly nude. This woman smiled coyly, everything about her elegant frame screaming demureness.

Weakness.

Much as it surprised her, she recognized the feeling brewing in the pit of her stomach: disgust. Eva tried to find its source, or at least a reason. She was a maiden, she’d come to accept this. Then why would a simple life repulse her so? Was it the lack of intellect?

As if to answer her question, the image twisted ever so slightly. The woman on the other side shifted. She looked the same, yet her eyes shone with fierce brilliance, carrying enough knowledge to fill every library in the kingdom.

Disgust roiled harder in Eva’s gut.

Despite all that wisdom and all those books, she had remained just as meek, just as weak!

There had to be something wrong. Eva fought against the feeling, reaching out to clench the mirror with both hands. Glass cracked under the strain. This couldn’t be it, she was an intellectual, why wouldn’t she want this!?

The answer came to her not in some sort of imaginary fantasy, but in a memory. An office protected by the kingdom’s best, where no expense had been spared, where not a soul could enter uninvited. Or at least where none should have been able to. The fact that she was standing here now was proof those measures had failed. A Vampire had pierced through the defenses, and robbed her of everything.

“Evangeline.”

She raised her eyes to look at her reflection once more. Rick stood behind her, concern etched in his face.

One day, someone might come for him just as they’d come for her.

They’d take him from her.

And she’d be powerless to stop it.

Kiara was right.

The truth was a lurch of icy water. Eva didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream. She suddenly felt trapped in the tent, cloth walls choking her from all sides. “I…”

“Do you need some air?” His voice was controlled, even when his heart was still beating at blistering speed, his blood pumping, his scent full of desire. She could practically feel the restraint, like wires growing taut and ready to snap.

But she couldn’t bring herself to calm this horrible feeling in her gut.

After all these months, even when the monster had died, it still haunted her.

Rick carefully moved closer. “If you want to change back…”

“No.” She gripped his hand, pulling the cape and draping it over her shoulders. Her first instinct was to flee there and then, but she stopped. Deep breath. She could handle this, she could do this, just… just not here, not with the mirror, not where anyone might hear.

But she would not do this without him. This she swore.

Eva turned to him. “Could you walk with me?”

He didn’t hesitate, snatching her hand. “Yeah, let’s.” He gave them the momentum she needed, stepping out to the fresh night air.

As soon as she recovered her ability to breathe properly, she took the lead. “Follow me.” She ignored how Monica vanished into shadows with her pile of meat. The Sabertooth would trail them, guard Rick, the thought made her uncomfortable.

No more. She would be defenseless no more.

There was somewhere they needed to go.

Eva would solve this… tonight.

She hoped.