"The lady isn't feeling well..."

  The governor didn't seem satisfied with this explanation. (I'll have to make up an excuse...) "She's sick, my lord."

  "Sick!?" Governor Medros Ancard shouted, "Sick!" He stomped his foot. "Get Pero Reid! Now!"

  The secretary remained calm. "My lord, the doctor has retired for the evening."

  "Retired?" He turned to glare at his male secretary. "Who let him rest? Get him here, dead or alive!"

  "Lord Ancard," Elisa said firmly, "Lady Clawyn doesn't wish to be disturbed."

  Medros Ancard collapsed back into his chair like a swatted fly. After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Then why did she send you?"

  (Stay calm, Elisa. Don't be afraid. Just speak naturally.) She straightened slightly. "Lady Clawyn wishes to end her... relationship with you."

  The governor shot up again. "Say that again," he said slowly, each word deliberate, "say that to me again."

  Alright, Elisa, don't be afraid. She placed her hand on her chest. "Lady Clawyn wants to end her... relationship with you."

  "Lies! All lies!" The old man's voice shook the mansion. "Daisy would never say that! You're lying! Bitch!"

  Seeing the governor about to lunge at her, the maid instinctively backed away. Portilo stood by, immobile as a stone knight. "I'm not lying," she said, gathering her courage. "She doesn't want to be your mistress anymore. I swear I speak the truth."

  Elisa found herself cornered against the wall. She could smell his breath, though it wasn't as sour as she had expected. "Let me tell you something, you little wretch. Daisy Clawyn became my mistress willingly. I never forced her."

  "That..." The maid was incredulous. "That can't be true..."

  "Can't be true?" Medros Ancard sneered cunningly. "You're her maid, aren't you? Then tell me, how do you think Carl Clawyn, as a nobleman, joined the Royal Knights of the expeditionary forces? Hmm?"

  Elisa was speechless.

  "Get it? Bitch!" The governor slammed his fist against the wall beside her head. The portrait of Young Master Ancard swayed, its drooping mouth seeming to grimace. "She begged to become my mistress so her puppy of a husband could join the knights!"

  (I can't believe Lady Clawyn would do such a thing...) She felt dizzy. "But... she sent you an entire cartload of wine..."

  The old man released a thunderous laugh that made it miraculous the mansion had stood for so long. "Wine... Yes, she sent me wine. But do you know what she said?" Elisa couldn't discern the governor's emotion. "She offered her body in exchange, claiming the wine would fetch a good price to support her household."

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  The girl felt as if the old man's earlier blow had struck her between the eyes. His laughter gradually subsided. "So I permitted her to become my mistress," Medros Ancard's words carried a bone-chilling coldness. "She wept, red-eyed, telling me how charming I was, what an honor it was to be my mistress..." His eyes began to redden too. "She begged me not to mind that she wasn't a virgin, not to be repulsed by her body that had borne children..." He smiled at Elisa. "Women only speak truly when they cry. You're a woman; surely you understand?"

  Elisa couldn't later recall if she had nodded.

  "But now she doesn't want me," The old man forced out the words, fighting back tears. "She sent a mere servant to dismiss me... to sever our connection..." He stumbled back to his desk. "You women are all liars, beautiful or ugly, all liars..."

  Elisa felt as if struck again, this time in her heart. She had never seen a man so vulnerable, so dependent. Something deep within her awakened—a distinctly feminine emotion.

  "My lord..." she stammered, her voice shy and halting. "If you don't mind... perhaps I could take Lady Clawyn's place..."

  Medros Ancard froze. (I don't regret this.) she thought.

  "You, replace her...?" The old man seemed to take an eternity to turn. "You...?" He moved toward the maid. "What could you possibly replace? Hmm? In what way could you take her place...?"

  "I'm still a virgin," she swallowed, "and I've never borne children."

  "To hell with virgins! To hell with children!" Medros Ancard panted heavily. "Daisy Clawyn was Marquess Lundyll's daughter! She was nobility! What are you? A worthless nothing! How could you replace her?!"

  "I..." (What am I?) The tears forming in her eyes seemed ready to answer for her. "I'm... a knight's daughter... a low-ranking knight... without title..." She recalled her father's armor from before she could recognize his face, before war claimed him. "My mother... was the illegitimate daughter of a baron..."

  "Oh! And then? Ah! Wait, I understand now." His face contorted into a mocking grin. "You're claiming to be noble-born too?" Spittle flew from his mouth, speckling the girl. "You're suggesting noble blood runs through your veins as well? Fine! Very well! I'll grant your wish!"

  He seized her by the throat and hurled her onto the velvet sofa. Perhaps the only aspect of his younger self that remained was his strength. "Let me see what noble girls' virgin blood looks like, shall I?" He tore at the maid's clothes, then his own trousers and undergarments. Portilo remained statue-still, while Elisa lay there like a torn doll.

  The old man spread the girl's legs, his flaccid member beginning to engorge. He could take her innocence now, make her a noblewoman, make her a woman. All it required was one thrust—into her neatly trimmed hair, into her tightly closed femininity—followed by the release of his milky ideal, his yellowed desire. Defining womanhood was so simple, so disturbingly simple.

  But he didn't proceed. He gazed at the young body in the firelight with a hint of appreciation. Slowly, he removed his spectacles, examining her with natural, unfiltered vision. First her disheveled brows, moist eyes, prominent nose, pale lips; then her slender neck, rising breasts, concave stomach, narrow hips. His mouth hung slightly open, words failing him. His arousal stood, but his head bowed.

  He wept. Silent, racking sobs.

  Elisa watched him cover his face, mumbling incoherent words. She couldn't comprehend his tears, nor could she be expected to. She remained a virgin.

  Medros Ancard summoned his remaining strength to wave her away. Elisa remained trapped in his grief until Portilo draped a blanket over her, awakening her from the trance.

  The two slipped from the room like mice fleeing a sinking ship.