E MCCA

lowed herbal notes into a worn leather traveling trunk. My handmaid, Phoebe,

a

ked open, slamming violent

aped in vibrant silk, flanked b

golden fan fluttering softly. "Tsk, tsk. My dear sister, are you truly

ng to fold a simple wool dress with methodical, rhyth

. With a harsh step forward, she snatched th

mother's

delicate, aging parchment with careless, rough fingers. "Ah, t

nds f

in the room seemed to dr

ng into a sharp, cruel purr, her fingers intentionally catching on a frail page, threatening to te

s the one line in this world n

maid could even

hould have possessed-sharp, lethal, and

g my mother's journal back befo

d slammed forward like an iron clamp, l

h

ntly against the stone wall. The air exp

tic glance from my eyes froze them dead in their tr

lutching desperately at my arm, her fa

a beneath her jaw-a precise pressure point that sent a paralyzing, fiery agony shooting through her entire n

My voice was a soft, icy whisper, carrying

grip tightening just enough to keep her on the preci

n her wide, terrified eyes. "Why...

y we

touched my lips. I

a sack of wet rags, coughing viol

no time t

essing table. Kneeling down, I pressed the icy, poin

e, my fingertips worked a microscopic trace of dormant botanical irrita

t's daughter, I know a great deal about the human body. I know a hundred distinct ways to make a perso

horror. Her body began to shake uncontro

her cheek to rest lightly against her trembling lips. "...I could simply sli

d mascara smeared down her face in a pathetic mess. "I'm sorr

ted with utter terror, sounding bo

ng form. The cold disgust in my chest

ed softly, withdrawi

f granted a divine pardon from the executioner's block. Her two maids caught her shivering fram

eclaimed

r face pale with shock as she stared at me with an over

s disheveled figure fleeing down the gravel pa

r of my mother's journal, its y

into the quiet evening breeze. I wi

y the opening note in the s