I hesitate only for a moment before knocking, a swift rap of triplets.

“Enter,” a voice calls from within. I oblige. Inside, a woman sits at a low table with stacks of letters piled around her. In one hand, she holds a letter, and in the other, a sword.

I pause mid-step, and she grins up at me. “What on earth are you doing?” Impossibly, her grin widens.

“Opening letters.” She replies smoothly.

“With a sword.”

“Well what else am I supposed to use it for?” Her tone is somehow innocent, underlined with sarcasm, and mocking all at the same time. I scoff. “Why did you call on me this fine evening, my sweet nemesis?”

“I came to see what my competition was up to, but it was clearly a foolish endeavor, seeing as she is so obviously wasting precious and valuable time that could be used for far more important matters than maltreating an expensive piece of equipment.” I smirk at her. She scowls back before laying the sword on the ground next to her.

And that is when I see it. I am not too far away to glance at the contents of a very high stack of letters on the ground next to the sword. Well, stack is a very generous word. It was more of a heap.

Her eyes follow my gaze and I can see the dread enter her face as she scrambles to hide the letters, but I am too quick for her. I snatch about a dozen away from her grasping hands and scan the first few words of each of them.

They’re all love letters, each and every one addressed to the same individual in her hand. To my dearest love, Sir Nickolas Farafax of the Western Isles. Each and every one of them addressed to me.

The realization catches me so off guard that she is able to snatch them back from me before I have a chance to read further.

“You love me.” I say breathlessly, attempting to meet her eyes. She glares at the floor. “You love me.” I say again, louder this time. Still, nothing.

Then, “Yes. I do. Of course I do. You’ve seen the letters, so I’ve no way to deny it. A fruitless effort on my part, I’m sure. I—“ she continues, but I don’t give her the chance.

~~~

I am trying to fabricate some petty excuse, like one of the mages drugged me with a love potion as a jest, or a prince had begun to dabble in alchemy and one of his brews had gone terribly wrong, or that a witch cast a spell on me to fall madly in love with the person I despised the most. Really, anything other than the truth.

But before I can get the words out, he is crushing his lips against mine. I am breathing in his scent and it is more wonderful than I ever would have dreamed. It is like my insides are filling up with honey, like I am being carried off on a thousand butterflies’ wings, like I am sinking to the bottom of the ocean and can still breathe underwater. But some small, horrified part of me pulls back from his embrace.

His eyes are wild and confused as he takes me in with a hunger that I have never seen before. My heart races with the power of an entire stable of steeds, and my mind races with tenfold that power. “What on earth are you doing?” I say furiously. “Do you wish to bring me lower than you already have? To play with my emotions until I am nothing but a dull husk? To force me to suffer as you mock me and my pitiful heart?”

He chuckles softly before answering, grabbing hold of my chin and leaning in so that I cannot look away. I could jolt myself from his grasp, but I don’t. No matter how humiliating it is, I still enjoy the feeling of his touch on my skin. “Aoife. My dear, sweet nemesis. For how long will you remain blind towards me? Even after I portray my affections for you, how do you remain doubtful? I suppose I shall put it simply, as you have done for me. I love you.” The last part is merely a whisper from his lips, a trickle of words, a mere breeze caressing my mouth. And now, after all this time, we finally see each other clearly.