Aurora sat on a horse pressed against the chest of a squire, who couldn't have been much older than her body was. She rejoiced that she wasn't riding with the Duke. Had that happened, like a rabbit, her heart would have just stopped from the fear. The man was in a league of his own, worse than any beast or monster. Even from here, his aura sent shivers down her back. Maybe she had been a rabbit in her past life. Her sense of danger was too good not to be trusted.

They had been riding for far too long. She was tired. Her glutes were sore, and the inners of her thighs felt raw. Inwardly, she cried, but she bit her lip to stop from crying in real life. The last thing she needed was to be thrown out by the Duke for being a nuisance. Why was horseback riding so painful?

"Lady Aurora, are you okay?" The squire asked. His voice was gentle. The young boy was sweet, unlike the Duke. She glared daggers into his back. No, she screamed inwardly. She wanted to stop and take a break, even if, for a moment, she wanted to feel the sturdy ground beneath her feet. The screen popped.

1. Thank you for your concern. I am fine.

2. Thank you for your concern. I am fine.

3. Thank you for your concern. I am fine.

For a moment, pain and tiredness were replaced with burning anger. God was a sadist, and he was spitful. How could someone who was supposed to be all-loving be this cruel? Wasn't he supposed to love his children, not despise them or make them suffer? Defeated, she chose the first option, not that it mattered.

"Thank you for your concern, but I am fine," she replied.

I am not okay, Aurora silently screamed.

"That's great, lady Aurora. It means we can ride until the evening. You are doing so good," the squire said.

Looking up at the sky, the sun had still to reach its highest point. She sighed and gave herself to her fate. Imagining her soul leaving her body as she lifelessly jerked back and forth on the rough terrain.

---

When evening finally came, Aurora could not get off the horse herself. Her muscles sore. She could not will her legs to lift high enough to get off the stead. As she had learned, the squire, or Sir John, had to practically drag her off the horse. Then she wobbled a few steps to a tree and dropped down.

The horse looked at her with a judgmental expression. Even the animals judged her in this world.

What are you looking at? She growled back in her mind.

It neighed as if laughing at her.

Aurora was completely drained physically and morally, and her ego was destroyed. She found a twig and drew circles into the soil. It was nice to be on solid ground after hours of riding. Even though it seemed a bit unstable now, the world still felt as if she was on horseback. When she closed her eyes, the ground rocked. Something told her that she would feel unsteady for a long while.

"What's wrong with her?" she could hear the Duke ask.

"I think Lady Aurora is tired," The squire replied.

Thank you, Sir John, she thought. Leaning back against the bark of the tree, she looked up at the sky. She had been so focused on holding on for dear life that she hadn't really had a chance to look around. Her fingers were also sore. The sky was now bleeding into a red as the sun was setting. The tension of her first time horseback riding had caused her to grow hot and sweat through the layers of clothing she had on. The coolness of the coming night was a welcome change.

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The knights set up camp around the open enclosure they had stopped in, setting up canvas tents and collecting firewood. They bustled around like bees, all busy doing their own tasks.

"Your Grace, Lady Aurora is a young lady, and she obviously has a weak composition. It would be best if you were more gentle with her," John continued talking with the Duke.

"If she is tired, she should just say so," The Duke responded.

You don't think I would if I could? Aurora sighed.

"The lady is not a person of many words. I get the feeling that she wants to say a lot but doesn't."

Sir John, she inwardly cried tears of joy. The boy was an angel. Was it his youth that allowed him to be so sweet?

The Duke sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Then he looked at her. She quickly aborted her gaze and looked down at the dirt, making herself busy drawing circles. She could feel his aura before she could see him in her peripheral vision. It felt as if an elephant had decided to sit on her. Any longer, and she would be squished. Aurora pretended not to notice, but it was hard when her heart was going a million miles an hour.

"Come," he said and held out a hand.

She looked at his hand and back at her legs. As much as she wanted to, she didn't think she could. Her muscles had never been this sore, and her legs were wobbly like jelly. Their journey was difficult in part because of how malnourished Clementine had been.

Aurora shook her head in response.

"Don't be difficult," the Duke said.

The last thing she wanted was to be difficult and anger the monster standing before her. But she really couldn't move. She was too weak. Never in a million years could Aurora imagine that someone could possibly be this weak. The blue screen popped up in the corner of her vision.

1. No

2. No

3. No

She cringed. Today would be her second death in two days. There was no way the Duke would let it slide if she replied like that.

Suddenly, Aurora had an idea. She could test out her theory and try writing an answer. Ignoring the screen, she scribbled on the ground. It was dark, and her handwriting was sloppy; the language that Clementine remembered felt foreign to her fingers, but she tried.

My legs hurt, she wrote in handwriting befitting a five-year-old.

Looking at the Duke, she gulped as her eyes met his. In the dark, they almost seemed to glow a bloody red. The crimson sunset behind him did not help subtract from the deadly atompshere. She hurriedly pointed to the ground.

"A person of few words, huh." Lucias bent down next to her. With a flick of a finger, he had what looked like a small flame on the top of his pointer finger. The flame had appeared from nowhere, and she watched, fascinated. Was this what they called magic in her old world? It illuminated her chicken scratch, and she blushed, a strange embarrassment filling her. A grown woman, in a child's body, who could barely write. How embarrassing.

"I see," he responded after a moment of deciphering the scribbles.

The screen disappeared.

"Then," he got up and leaned down, putting his hands under her armpits. He lifted her up with ease. She did not think it was possible to hold someone her size like that. He held her out at arm's length like one would hold a dirty puppy or child. She thrashed. Put me down, she wanted to yell.

"Behave, Aurora," he warned sternly as he carried her to the center of the camp, where a fire had already been set up.

She slumped, attempting to make herself more heavy and uncomfortable to carry.

"Just like my brother's children," he mumbled.

Aurora blushed. She had never felt this demeaned as a person before. It was bad enough that she was in the body of a child, not being taken seriously. She couldn't talk. She was poor and dirty. She was weak. And now, she, a twenty-five-year-old woman, was being compared to what- a toddler. Tears of embarrassment pricked at the corner of her eyes. She was thankful that it was dark and no one could see the redness of embarrassment that had spread across her face.

Lucias stared intently at her and snickered, "I can't tell the difference." He sat her down near the fire.