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The next morning, Valia stood in the garden behind her home, overgrown after a year of neglect, but still beautiful. She held her sword out in front of her, breathing deeply. Step by step, she underwent the Dance of the Ivunara, an elvish custom performed before battle, as well as for exercise. It was a war dance to ease the body’s mana flow and loosen the muscles. Each day was easier, and she felt like she almost back to her old self.

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.

Sophia clutched her hands tightly. “But I did know. I knew she had that venom because I helped her transfer its abilities to a vial of Abernathy’s Ichor. I warned her what would happen, how dangerous it was to keep that bottle, and implored her to destroy it. She didn’t listen and told me to keep it a secret. To my shame, I did, and now I have the king’s blood, and the blood of countless knights and soldiers on my hands. Cyrilo said she would take responsibility for anything that happened, but all she’s done is go with the flow, hiding behind lies. Every time I try to talk to her about it, about us facing our sins, she silences me. She did it today, which is why I came to you. I must admit, I’ve lost a great deal of respect for her.