Chapter 8 Death Over Dishonor
The steward's hand kept wandering over my waist. By then we had reached the rear courtyard. He impatiently pressed me down on the large rock of the rockery and roughly tore open my clothes.
"Never thought a girl like you would be so pleasing. Let this master have a good taste."
While he buried his head at my chest, I aimed at his forehead and stabbed.
But I had overestimated myself. Even a rear-kitchen steward in the camp came from the ranks. He dodged keenly.
When he saw the Short Blade, his eyes narrowed and his face went hard.
"Damn it, you little bitch, you dared try to kill me?!"
My head was slammed hard. I felt dizzy at once, but still raised the blade in my hand by instinct and stabbed again.
Death was fine. Humiliation was not.
The steward sneered, easily slapped my blade away, and yanked my hair.
"Didn't show it usually. You're this fierce. Opening your legs is nothing. No need to fight so hard."
"Aren't you close with those cheap skins? Use what you learned from them and serve me well. If this master is pleased, I might even take you as a concubine."
I spat at him. With a bang my head was smashed against the rock behind again.
My thoughts went blank. The back of my head itched. When I touched it, it was all blood.
Before I blacked out, I seemed to hear a familiar voice. The last thing I saw was the steward's eyes shifting from fierce to dazed.