"𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘵?"
⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂જ⁀➴
Born into servitude, Zayd finds his place as the stablehand for the illustrious Fitzwilliam family. It is there that he forges a...
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"This is not amusing." Zayd's voice carried a tone of frustration, barely contained beneath his breath as he grumbled amidst Adelia's infectious giggles. The damp fabric clung stubbornly to her skin, defying his efforts to clothe her once more. With each attempt, he found himself ensnared in a battle against the clinging material, a struggle far more arduous than their initial undressing had been.
"Impending guests seen from afar are signalled by the horn," Adelia chided, her voice brimming with confidence. "Care to wager on how much time we have left?"
Abandoning the sodden, cumbersome skirt as their final obstacle, Adelia secured it beneath her arm. Zayd clasped her hand firmly in his, propelling them toward the manor in haste.
"Wait, Zayd," Adelia suddenly halted, her eyes widening with concern as she dug her heels into the earth. "The fish!"
"Leave the fish, Delia," Zayd urged, gently tugging her arm to coax her onward, but Adelia remained stubbornly rooted in place.
Zayd emitted an exasperated grunt as he hurried back to the stream. With keen eyes scanning the surroundings, he sought a vessel to carry the freshly caught fish, cursing himself for his earlier carelessness in discarding the sharpened stick.
Finding nothing suitable, he unfastened a square of linen from his belt, a cloth typically reserved for wiping away the sweat and grime of his laborious tasks. He fashioned it into a makeshift sling, swaddling both of the trout securely. Satisfied with his impromptu solution, he hurried back to Adelia.
Together they dashed through the dense forest, their pace intermittently slowed by stolen kisses that punctuated their flight. Their laughter mingled with the rustling of leaves, reverberating through the canopy of trees. As they reached the crossroads at the forest's edge, Zayd pressed a fleeting, affectionate kiss upon her lips, then playfully tapped her rear, provoking a joyful squeal from her lips before they parted ways.
Adelia evaded the front of the manor, her steps deliberate and careful. With the Duke's impending arrival, she calculated she had twenty minutes before his expected appearance. Reluctant to chance an encounter with him—or worse, her mother—she shunned the predictable path and instead opted for the quieter route.
Approaching her chamber window, Adelia gently set down the burdens weighing down her arms. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she sent a scattering of pebbles tapping against the glass, eager for the reassuring sight of her ever-faithful Abigail bustling within. Surely, her friend would be pacing her chambers, her mind undoubtedly consumed with worry over Adelia's whereabouts. A pang of guilt tugged at her conscience as she envisioned Abigail's frantic preparations while anxiously awaiting her return.
Though amidst Adelia's summons, there was only silence. Swiftly shelving her worries, Adelia resolved to seek an alternate path into the manor, her confidence undiminished by the absence of her loyal confidante. She strode to the side door nestled in the corner of the garden, convinced of her ability to navigate through the back of the great hall undetected.
