I emerge to consciousness with my eyes already wide open, sweat covering my burning forehead. I can’t remember opening my eyes … or waking up.

Familiar waves of pain regularly radiate from the wound but something is different with it, a sick feeling that I feel in my whole body, an uncomfortable heat that makes me sweat.

I finally make sense of the shades of gray in my vision when I understand that it’s too dark inside to see colors. I find Lady Lance looking down at me with a worried frown.

She’s still holding me within her arms, but I can barely feel their touch between the sickly feeling, the waves of pain and rising vertigo.

“I’m burning. Let me go, it burns, my skin, my head …” I try telling Lady Lance, but she doesn’t move. Why?

“You’re not burning Jessica, you’re fine, there is no fire.” She says in a soothing tone, with a single breath. A practiced reassurance.

I start panicking a little when she doesn’t seem An intense surge of scorching heat courses through me, slowly spreading from my head and worsening a headache that was already present but muted before.

When the heat reaches my right arm, my only arm, my mind is instantly sent back to my last memories of the ambush, the searing fire, intolerable amounts of pain that I can never allow myself to experience again.

“I’m burning, Let. Me. Go! I’m burning!” I say, louder, demanding with some definite panic in my voice.

“You’re not burning Jessica, you’re fine, there is no fire.” Lady Lance repeats, soothingly still, with a single breath.

“I don’t believe you! Let me see, let me see!” I half snap at her, half beg her.

She opens the loop that her arms are making around me, her hands linking behind my back. I immediately propel my arm to my right to seize the bed frame, trying to throw my legs over the edge of the wood frame at the same time.

But my attempts are both blocked by Lady Lance, expertly intercepting my legs by lifting one of hers between mine and the frame. Her arms link behind my back again before I can even think to leverage my hand’s grip on the bed to lift myself and escape.

“Let me go! I’m burning, my arm is burning, please don’t cut my other arm off! Let me go, please, don’t. Help!” My voice is a mess, it jumps from demanding, to complaining, to explaining, to begging, to yelling out for rescue.

My mind follows along emotionally with the intonations, or perhaps it was the origin of the sudden changes as my feelings are going all over the place. I spot an orange glow in the corner of my eye, I pitch my head sideways so quickly that my headache and vertigo almost throw me back to unconsciousness. Nothing. No flames, no orange glow. I’m hallucinating.

There is no soothing voice this time, I notice with a wide delay, Lady Lance is keeping her silence, holding me tightly in her arms to prevent me from escaping.

Her goal is to keep me where she can cut off my arm if my blisteringly hot skin suddenly bursts into flames! I need to find water to cool it before that happens! I try to hit her with my elbow, I weakly hit the side of her torso with the back of my bent arm. She doesn’t react, am I too weak?

The exertion of moving so much combined with my headache, made worse by the pounding of my blood in my ears, sends me into another fit of vertigo. My neck stops supporting my head and it falls down to rest on top of my Leomi’s chest.

— — —

“I hate you.” I hear my voice speak on its own as I regain consciousness. How is that possible? Besides, I could never hate her. “You’re tricking me. It’s just another game, let me go, stop … holding … me.”

My mind catches on quickly with my body’s apparent goals, escape is good, the heat isn’t as bad anymore but my arm … it’s still there! I sigh in relief. It could still burst into flames so I need to get her to let me go.

I try to struggle but there is no strength to do so in my arm, or the rest of my body. I don’t even manage to lift my head off her chest. My breathing is irregular, I try to take deeper inspirations.

I force myself to raise my head and look up to Lady Lance. Her expression is complicated, her eyebrows frowned in worry, her lips pressed together so tightly that they form a single white line, her jaw is clenched hard, her teeth grit together as a result. I don’t understand, what does … that face mean?

My vision becomes cloudy as tears rise up to the corner of my eyes on their own, preventing me from seeing anything more as the shades of gray that I could roughly see slowly turn into unidentifiable blurs.

“Please kiss me?” The plea is involuntary, my deepest desire escaping my lips while I am too focused on my dissipating eyesight to catch myself in time. Too late to stop now, I need to explain before this rising pressure in my head knocks me out. “I didn’t mean any of it, I think I’m losing my mind. This pressure inside my skull. … Kiss me before I lose it completely? Please? Forgive me, I didn’t want to say all that, I … just a small kiss? It hurts, I’m sorry, please! My head, Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrgh!”

— — —

“Why are you torturing me? I’m nothing, you’re … strong, strikingly beautiful, magnificent from your slender fingers to your perfectly shaped breasts …”

Her hand moves and catches my own before it can fully lift off. How many times did I try to do that for her to react so swiftly?

“Please pick one, throw me away or take me.” I utter with desperation, the thoughts swimming in my head are too numerous, so uncontrollably many that I don’t know what I’ll say when my mouth makes the decision to speak up. “I can’t take being in your arms like this, it hurts, stop … playing with me. I hate you, stop tricking me, it’s just another game for you anyway.” I take long desperate gulps of air, my tirade stretching too long for my current lung capacity. I don’t care. I cut my inspiration short, that’s enough air to keep going. “Just, throw me away, you’ve had enough fun, right? Please, just … why would you torture me like this? Did you bet on how many times you could make the stupid peasant beg for a kiss?” I ask, stopping only because a spike of pain is rising in intensity inside my head, making me lose track. The stake piercing the inside of my skull suddenly increases in intensity, in pressure.

— — —

“I beg of you, please kiss me, before I …”

— — —

The heat is getting worse but she’s not letting me go to find water to extinguish the flames if I suddenly … The corner of my eyes catch a glimpse of orange within the blur of gray, I need to convince her, now!

“Let me go, it burns but it’s not burning yet! Don’t cut it off yet! Please! No! Fire! … Quick, before the flames spread, find water! Don’t kill me yet, my Lady, please! Wait! I beg you, I can find water in time, I …”

— — —

I feel a strong grip close around my forearm, it tears me out of my unconscious ravings. I panic, my eyes too unfocused to see recognize anything. I try to pull abruptly with my arm to break the grip. I barely manage to move the hand of whoever is holding me, much less escape the constraint.

“Let me go!” I yelp, trying to fight my panic down. “Why does my head hurt so much? The pressure, it, Argh!” I gasp for my breath, forgetting all about my arm. “It, hurts, so much, I don’t, know who you are but, please …”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“It’s me, it’s Leomi, you’re fine Jessica, you’re having a fit of delirium, you’ll be okay.” She says, trying to be reassuring but the distinct rasping it makes as it goes through her throat ruins her attempt at a soothing inflection. A tired, worn voice produced by sore vocal cords.

“I don’t trust you, you lied to me, you tricked me, you played me, you … Argh! My, my arm, no, not my arm, the wound, its …” My voice cuts off as a wave of pain drowns everything, all my thoughts.

The wound on my left feels like my flesh is stretching itself, causing a white-hot pain that has no heat to it, a sensation similar to the worst cramp except the stretching white-hot agony is increasing in intensity, slowly, steadily, without end. There is no escape because I am not causing the pain, it … it just is. It is there to tear me apart. It doesn’t stop!

“Too, … too much, let me die, please, let it end. I can’t keep going.” I whisper, afraid to be heard, desperate to be understood.

Lady Lance’s hand is still clasped around my forearm, my hand snaps around her wrist, my nails cut at finger length dig into her skin. I grasp for my life, barely a second after begging for it to end. The ever-stretching pain does not recede however, it keeps rising.

A spasm courses through my muscles, making my fingers clasp around her wrist even further, digging even deeper into her skin. Lady Lance doesn’t show a single indication of the pain she has to be feeling, her own grip over my forearm doesn’t waver, not a tremble. She remains immobile with one arm wrapped around my waist and the other sharing an odd wrist-shake with me.

My Leomi is holding me so closely against herself, I can just let go, let my mind go. No! I can’t trust her! Then all I have to do is give myself up entirely to her, that way there is no more trust to be had, the issue disappears if she has everything of mine. I could finally let go.

The stretching pain, the white-hot agony, it reaches a breaking point and the urgency to make a decision before it tears my mind apart ends the debate.

I can let go of my mind, right? My Leomi is holding me tightly against her chest, what is sanity compared to that?!

— — —

She left me alone. My first thought resounds through my mind as I wake up, no, before I even woke up. I quash it, my mind is focusing on the memories of the night. Flashes of images and feelings I felt, nothing precise. I pat around the sheet mattress with my arm, just to make sure. I’m alone.

I do remember my internal dialogue’s last insane exchange. Can’t say that I disagree, even now, does that mean I’m insane? No, just stupidly intense about this crush. I shrug my mind off those thoughts to focus on recalling more.

I have memories clear enough to know that I spoke, but not nearly clear enough to remember what I said. My feelings were all over the place, nothing that I said could have come out coherent, right?

With that fuzzy feverish fog clouding my mind added on top of the … pressure that weighted down on my brain, inside my very skull. A shiver of dread courses through me at the memory of the constant unending pressure weighing on my very thoughts, smothering them.

Losing control of my mind, of my being, … as easily as that. The idea of it terrifies me, it would be a worse fate than losing my other arm. I hear the sound of a bed frame creaking far to my left.

I take my courage in both my hands and force myself to sneak a peek over my own wooden frame, finding both Yvonne and Lady Lance sitting side by side on that frame.

Lady Lance doesn’t look as energetic as she usually does but I don’t risk taking a closer look, I hurry and hide back behind my bed frame, laying back into the sheet mattress before they spot me looking.

What did I say last night? I can’t have said anything embarrassing, right? I’m a very private and modest person … Fuck! I’m neither of those things. Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck fuck fuck.

What did I tell her? Did I ask for a kiss? Did I get one? Finally? Does it matter if I don’t remember it? No. Yes, yes it does. If she kissed me once, she’ll kiss me twice, I need to know. I can’t ask that. She might have kissed me and hated it.

I lift my hand up to my face and take hold of my temples with my thumb and index, squeezing tight until I regain control of my thoughts. Lady Lance took care of me for the whole night while I was in delirium, she is obviously not attracted to me and even if she was, Lady Lance would not take advantage of my weakness.

Now that I’ve reestablished reality, I need to find a way to escape this room without being seen. I can thank her later, in a week when my nerves wind down and I regain control of the fear wrapped around my heart.

I spend five more cowardly minutes hiding in the bed, occasionally catching the hint of a whisper coming from Yvonne and Lady Lance. The wooden frame of Ass-face’s bed creaks, I hear him throw his legs over it and get up.

“Good morning.” Lady Lance speaks up clearly.

“Good morning.” Yvonne adds immediately after, her tone of voice between flat and forced enthusiasm.

I recognize the tone as one that my brother used for years in the morning, back in the day. Father had always insisted on our manners in the mornings, before Mother passed, because Mother wouldn’t bother as long as we remained relatively polite.

After Father left to work our fields, Mother taught us various lessons in the mornings before taking us to join Father in the afternoon to help, she occasionally taught us swear words on the way to make Father go nuts as he tried to figure out where we could have heard such things as You’re a beetle raising hick!

An insult that I kept throwing at my brother for years because the relatively minor jest confused him to no end. He never figured out that his confusion it was the entire point of the insult, the only reason I used it.

“Good morning.” Patrick replies blandly. “What do we do today? Is there a plan?”

“You are spending the day with me, Lord heir Patrick.” Princess Celyz’ voice startles them so much that I can hear it without seeing their reactions. Listening in, hidden, allows me to better handle the surprise as I already expected to hear voices from sources that I cannot see.

This is a chance to get out of here quickly without being stopped! Cowardice is available to those who know when to seize the opportunity. I add the thought in self-derision.

“I protest, Princess Celyz, we have many things to discuss together, perhaps later this morning?” Patrick argues.

“Good, then all of you can join me for breakfast before we both take time to converse.” The Princess agrees without missing a beat.

I check my flow reserves, finding them empty. Damn. Whatever, I’m fit enough not to need a boost. I throw my legs over the bed frame, using my hand to help myself over and standing with a single motion.

I waste no time and immediately rush towards the door, rushing up to Princess Celyz to utter a quick question.

“I apologize Princess Celyz, if I may be allowed to take a walk?”

“Of course.” She nods in agreement. “I hope the night wasn’t too hard but I am confident that the paste combined with the healing construct have cleared the infection.” She adds as I pass by her, having burst into motion to leave the building as soon as my request was allowed.

I mutter a sound to acknowledge that I have heard her. My lack of any kind of thankful feelings towards her actions and their consequences prevent me from faking any kind of polite thanks towards her.

She might be able to detect lies with that uncanny sense of smell. That’s a bit too much paranoia. Is it? I shake my head, hastening my pace as I fast-walk down the street to leave the area as quickly as possible.

I see the lake’s shore on my left as I pass a street crossing. I stare at the huge Queen and the thousands of eggs growing on her tendrils, she is too large to have a good look from here, level with the surface of the water.

Let’s test the limits of the freedom Princess Celyz allows us. I take a right on the street crossing, heading towards the outside of the city. No Rykz tries to stop me as I make my way, and I pass by a great many of them.

Lines of warriors are leaving buildings filled with beds, heading towards nearby structures with lines of tables inside. There are groups of workers walking the street with diverse tools in their three-fingered hands, from empty wicker baskets to hammers with human-style handles, to small iron shovels that are smaller than their hands.

Now that I think of it, I have noticed the Rykz using a lot of metal. I suppose it isn’t surprising if they raise those … Grubs in pens, it wouldn’t be hard to make them dig tunnels all over the mountain until they found an unexploited iron vein.

I follow behind those workers wielding the small shovels as they also head out of the city, towards the mushroom pit fields that begins right after the last building. When they start dispersing through the field, I keep walking.

I intend to find a hill high enough to get a good look at the Queen, for now. It’s as good a goal as any when you’re running away. Hopefully, it won’t be too bad if I go too far, I don’t think I would enjoy being chased down by scouts that think I’m trying to escape, but having information on the limits of our freedom could come in useful …

For what? I look around the valley and the sharp mountain walls surrounding it, those are impossible to climb, even with all the trees, and we aren’t breaking through one of their guarded tunnels without weapons.

I make my way up a hill that I think is tall enough to give me a good vantage point to observe the Queen in the middle of the lake. I turn around and sit down on the hilltop, enjoying the sporadic bursts of wind that ruffle my clothes at this altitude, waiting for the morning sun to finish rising above the mountain ridges to receive its heat.