The familiar dagger strapped to my thigh is a comfort I cling to, along with the memory of his hands fastening it there. “Impress me today, darling,” he had whispered, kneeling before me. The words were so similar to the ones I had uttered after we sparred for the first time. And with his hands gripping my thigh, gray eyes meeting mine through dark lashes, I realized, terrifyingly, that I would do anything to earn his praise.
