The Silvermoon Embassy: Noble Submission
Copyright© 2025 by SerynSiralas
Chapter 3
Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 3 - An enticing experience with a kaldorei prisoner, over too soon, too violently, has stayed with Silendiel Flameborn, noble lady of Silvermoon City, for many years. When her house loses a servant to the recently established kaldorei embassy, she takes her frustrations out on the night elves. Their reaction proves rather surprising, and she soon finds herself in the company of a towering, well-equipped Sentinel Lieutenant. Will she choose reputation, or indulgence in desires too long denied?
Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa Consensual Fan Fiction Futanari High Fantasy BDSM DomSub Humiliation Light Bond Rough Anal Sex Exhibitionism Oral Sex Size
The rug before Silendiel’s bed was too thin. Too thin by far. Her knees ached from remaining on them for so long, but then, there was a part of her that took the dull, consistent pain as a kind of badge of honor. Proof, delivered to her by her senses, that she was invested. That she sacrificed and worked for her desires to be made real. Even so, she tried to make a note for herself to have the staff buy and put in a new, more substantial floor cover, one which provided the necessary cushioning. Not that she would tell any of the servants that she needed cushioning for her knees. It would be a little too much, even with her newfound, if still quiet, resolve, to have such a thing openly said when only a handful of nights had passed since her stay in the embassy. Since, the following day, having turned up to announce that the kaldorei would be back, and would be her personal guard. Standing watch at her door.
She worked her eyes, squeezed shut in the grimace caused by her mouth gaping so widely, open just so. Just enough that a sliver of golden light emerged from beneath the dark piece of cloth wrapped around her face, bathing the strong purple of Neryn’s skin, of her abs and pelvic area in its glow. Silendiel’s throat worked, convulsed, trying desperately to expel the colossal cockshaft hammered down into her, now bottomed out in her maw, so much so that the tip of her nose squashed against Neryn’s body. In that moment, they were still. Totally united. But Silendiel’s face ached, warmed, from the impacts of hard muscle it had suffered already. Impacts that would resume, given time. But in that moment, she remained on her knees, the night elf’s hands secured behind her head. Holding her down. She could not prevent the occasional sputtering of thick, throaty saliva from bubbling out, connecting them ever more closely by those messy strands, but had reasoned that Neryn actually liked that. Enjoyed the immense struggle that her kneeling, little sun went through, in order to take every mammoth, fat inch of that dick.
Heartbeat-moments stretched into seconds. Handfuls of seconds. Multiple handfuls. The familiar, red and black throbbing emerged from the cracks of her mind, somehow hollowing out her chest, in spite of its fullness. But one could not breathe cock, and so it slowly grew, and grew, seconds rolling on. Silendiel shifted, both to ease the strain on her knees, but also because some primal part of her demanded that she work to breathe again. The padded cuffs secured around her wrists, arms behind her back, made it difficult to do anything at all. The rope she knew ran from those cuffs to one of the corner posts of her bed made the mad notion of fleeing, produced by a mind reaching for every idea and thought and dream in a quest for air, impossible.
Silendiel’s body trembled, and so, her lips, wrapped tightly around the very base of that behemoth cock, trembled against it. Against Neryn’s chiseled form. A natural reaction to the growing need for breath, but one that seemed to encourage the sentinel to, in a single hard jerk of movement, secure Silendiel’s face in its place once more. Pulling what fractions of an inch of that huge, fat dick that could still be hammered into her maw into it.
And yet, penetrating that ever-spreading, ever-growing fog of her primal self’s need for air, there was a shining star, a combined thought. That she wanted this. She wished for it. She desired Neryn to take what she wanted, for as long as she wanted. To take whatsoever pleased her. It gave Silendiel the strength to surge upwards, just a little, pressing that obscene, widely-spread kiss closer still around the root of her sentinel’s massive shaft. Counting not seconds, not anymore, but heartbeats. Focusing on that, over the sucking void inside, the immaterial darkness that she could not see, could not grasp, but nevertheless felt closing in.
How long, how many more seconds had passed, Silendiel could not tell. She knew, only, that Neryn had pulled back. Lazily pulsing, fat inches of cock slipping up, and out, until the head hung in the air before her as she desperately, automatically gasped for mouthfuls of air. In the privacy of her own chambers, with confidence in the sentinel’s desire for her, she could let her mouth hang open, could let those drooping, thick, ever-breaking strands of cum-mixed saliva fall to the floor, to be absorbed into the rug.
She could have breathed for longer, sucked in more air, prepared herself for longer, but allowed herself only ten seconds, or so, to saturate herself with as much as she could, and then she raised her head again, presenting her open mouth, tongue out, to the sentinel. Was rewarded when that beefy, thick crown found her waiting lips, when Neryn’s hands settled behind her head once more, when those heedlessly brutal thrusts pistoned colossal cock into her mouth, and down her throat, and allowed her world to collapse again into thinking only of serving her sentinel. No sight to distract her, the blindfold remaining secured in place. No clawing at thighs for breath – wrists still remained cuffed at her back. Nothing but the repeated, crushing meeting of Neryn’s body with her face, as the final stretch came on, that uncompromising, slam-fucking hunt for orgasm, needed to occupy her mind or her senses.
For a short moment, Silendiel wondered if her nose might actually break. Neryn, after their union in the embassy, after having been taken on as guard and confidante, seemed to have found her footing in a way previously unknown. Certainly not one undesired by Silendiel, but nevertheless, the demanding, merciless pace, the cramming of that massive, girthy dick, the meeting of kaldorei muscle and delicate sin’dorei skin, had a more aggressive tinge to it. As if she was proving something, making up for something, despite them having found one-another. As if, somehow, Neryn wished to prove to Silendiel just how superior, how worthy, she was of taking precisely what she wanted, as if each hammer-blow thrust imparted that knowledge, physically. It was entirely unnecessary, but, despite the difficulties it would bring in having to hide the red marks with makeup later, Silendiel did nothing to stop that notion, if it indeed existed in Neryn’s head, from directing the sentinel’s actions. What mattered was her night elf’s pleasure. That was it. That was all.
A single, hard, hilting thrust paused, and Silendiel knew, then, as erratic thrusts powered down her aching, constricting throat, that the end approached. Knew enough to try to rise against each movement, meeting it, such that Neryn could find an ever deeper home in her, as impossible as that was. Already, she enveloped every possible inch with her lips, and mouth, and throat, repeatedly met and kissed around the root of that monster, and continued to do just that. For as long as she could.
There came a time, inevitably, when the feral, primal part of Neryn took over, hands behind Silendiel’s head locking her in place, such that she could only take. Could only feel the kaldorei’s body quaking with tense bursts of pleasure, rising against her skin, balls against her throat. The first colossal load hammered down that bulging cumvein, pumping down into her stomach, Neryn cramming, crushing Silendiel’s head against her body, as if that fraction of an inch of depth would make a difference. It made none, of course, but it did not matter. The clamping tension of muscle pounding those thick loads of seed into her was her reward. The straining, relieved, only hesitantly loosed breaths that came from her above her signified that she had done a good job. Precisely as she should, as she wanted to.
Again, and again, and again, accompanying each massive, sweltering rope of cum, her sentinel breathed that difficult pleasure out, and made Silendiel weak, made her skin tingle with little dots of heat. Nothing like an orgasm, but a whole-body experience, nevertheless. Her skin near crawled with that satisfaction, save where the sentinel’s fingers pressed against her skin, behind her head, her temples and cheekbones, her scalp, there it collapsed into consistent warmth.
One load followed another, and, while the first had been pumped into her stomach with such bruising force that she felt as if her flat belly had bulged in one specific spot in response, the sixth, seventh, eighth, and all following, hammered into an already existing sea of it, and so, all each additional, huge load did was cause her pristine form to accept its depraved duty. To grow, to bulge, to build a dome, weighed down by the heft and mass of the sentinel’s seed. More, and more, and more of it, that colossal shaft pulsing in her throat, between her lips, each pistoning load finding its new home inside of her straining belly. Each accompanied by one of those near-growling breaths from above.
Until, at last, blessedly, Neryn found peace again, a few final, smaller loads squeezed from her as she perfunctorily pushed against Silendiel’s face. That came to an end, too, and so they remained still, together, united, skin against skin. Silendiel still on her knees, lips still closed around the root of the monster of a cock, remaining as she was until her sentinel decided that she had had enough. Neryn’s fingers loosened, eventually, though not to immediately begin withdrawing, but rather to hook under the blindfold. Tugging it upwards, free, tossing it aside. Eyes still squeezed near shut from the grimace she had to adopt just to fit the sentinel’s behemoth into her mouth, Silendiel saw little, at first, but was pleased at the slight sheen of sweat visible on Neryn’s abs.
To the extent that she could move her head at all, Silendiel responded to a caress of her right cheek by leaning into it, by trying, as much as she could, to relax. To come to terms with the colossal cockshaft settled inside her, even if her throat still desperately worked, clenched, tightened, to try to remove it. To no avail. She eventually opened her eyes more, though.
A silhouette. To her right.
Immediately, cold bile seemed to rise in her, anxiety, heart thumping. She shifted, struggled, moved her shoulders, but found her hands firmly secured, still. Widening her eyes as much as she could, desperately staring to the right, she came to the conclusion that someone was there. A sin’dorei. A woman. Blonde. Silvery smudge near her forehead. Hard to see. Silendiel turned her attention back to Neryn, who clearly tried to soothe her, caressing her cheek again. And again. How long had the woman been there? Seen them together? Seen her so eagerly drinking down every obscene drop, every massive load, and then lean into Neryn’s hand? Seen her so brutally facefucked?
Neryn did begin to pull back, but did so slowly. Hand remaining on Silendiel’s bulging cheek as she did so, the sentinel’s breathing still elevated. Nevertheless, she spoke, still trying to calm her little sun as much as possible, given the potential catastrophe of someone seeing the two together that was now unfolding. Was very real.
“This is the seneschal of the embassy, little sun. Liriel,” Neryn said.
Silendiel’s eyes darted over to the still difficult to see figure, squirming, yet struggling against herself not to try to hasten the withdrawal of that monstrous shaft too much. It was not up to her, in the end, it was up to Neryn. Who still caressed her cheek, tenderly. Who clearly did not view this woman as any kind of threat.
“She comes bearing a proposal, from the priestess. Wished to see us. You,” Neryn said. Clearly still seeing the wild, cornered look in the slim eyes of her kneeling little elf, she tried adding: “She serves the Captain of the embassy sentinels. My Captain. Tessa. Yes?”
That last word was said while Neryn looked to the side, to Liriel. Silendiel more felt than saw the woman nod, but, thankfully, she seemed to understand the disadvantage the kneeling noblewoman was at in that moment, adding a few words.
“I serve and please the Captain to the best of my abilities. Much like you with the Lieutenant, Lady Flameborn.”
At long last, Neryn pulled the final few inches of that behemoth from Silendiel’s throat, and, arms still secured behind her back, she hacked and coughed, and bent forward until her heavy, sloshing stomach momentarily touched the floor, gasping for breath. Gasping for coherent thought, for some kind of refinement, dignity, with which she would normally have faced a mere commoner. Whether that commoner served the embassy, or not. She felt one of Neryn’s hands behind her head, curling around it, and thus found it within herself to straighten somewhat, still breathing hard. It was remarkably difficult to put on the noble’s mask she had so long practiced when laden with a bellyful of cum, when her arms remained tied at the back, when she was secured to a bedpost like a housepet. When she remained on her knees, gasping for breath, because she was still too weak to reliably stand, having just been brutally throatfucked.
“Ssspeak, then,” Silendiel said, hissing the first word. If not for Neryn’s supporting hand, she might have curled up and died, but the strong presence of her towering sentinel offered a small measure of courage. A steeling of her spine that proved very necessary, as she remained on her knees, legs spread to accommodate the massive bulge of her stomach.
“Priestess Iralis requests from you a favor,” Liriel said.
Not a single hint of judgment in the woman’s eyes, at least as far as Silendiel could tell. Perhaps even a light coloring of the cheeks, hinting at arousal. Jealousy, even, perhaps? Neryn had, after all, said that this woman, seneschal, served the sentinel Captain. Silendiel nodded, after a moment, for Liriel to go on.
“The embassy seeks to hire staff. Servants, to ease the running of the place, to better allow the priestess and her acolytes, and the resident sentinels, to carry out other duties than upkeep and maintenance,” Liriel said.
“You have already ... convinced one of my staff to come to you. Are you truly here for more?”
Liriel shook her head.
“She, unfortunately, did not work out. Could not handle the pressure, at length.”
“Why, then,” Silendiel said, feeling some small hint of grace and refinement trickle back in, despite her position. “Has she not returned?”
“If you were in her position, my Lady,” Liriel said. Golden eyes moved first to scan Neryn’s chiseled physique, and then Silendiel’s. “Given what happened before your change of heart, would you’ve come back?”
For but a moment, Silendiel narrowed her eyes. She let her shoulders sink just a little, then, shaking her head. “Probably not.”
“You might reach out to her. I’m sure she will be very understanding of your circumstances. Not to mention considerably more loyal now, than before, given your experiences in common.”
“Maybe,” Silendiel said. She tried to take a deeper breath, settle herself and her mind more firmly, but the colossal load churning in her made it difficult to do just that. It would go down, with time. “We are straying from the topic at hand. Why are you here, if not to pilfer my staff?”
“It is my charge, together with the Captain, to find and hire the servants we still need. The position’s ... particular, as you likely understand, my Lady,” Liriel said. Her expression remained studiously neutral. “We cannot just hire capable servants. We must hire those who are ready to serve in the embassy – preferably those excited to do so. Those who are not just ready to see, but to indulge, themselves.”
“And this, somehow, has something to do with me?”
“Yes, my Lady,” Liriel said. “The priestess wishes, has recommended, that we begin demonstrations of what the position involves as a part of hiring. Show the prospects what they have to look forward to. She thinks it prudent that we show the prospects the physical union of a kaldorei, and a sin’dorei. Ease their minds, and sort out those uninterested or unsuitable.”
“Go on,” Silendiel said. Her eyes strayed to Liriel’s forehead, where a dull, silvery symbol sat. Something very kaldorei in nature, a strange thing to display in Silvermoon City. But, then, the seneschal was thoroughly of the embassy, now.
“So as to keep things quiet, discreet, the priestess suggested, and I agreed, that it might be better to have this demonstrations outside of the embassy. And she suggested, then, that you might be willing to do us this favor. Allow us to, for an hour or two, use one of your rooms.”
“You wish to turn my home into a brothel,” Silendiel said.
“That isn’t how we see it, my Lady. It isn’t how anyone who is dedicated to, ah,” Liriel halted, gesturing towards Neryn. The Lieutenant stood in her sentinel gear and uniform, save for sagging trousers and clothing tugged halfway up her abdomen, apparently not thinking to hide any part of herself merely because Liriel had arrived. Faced the newcomer, relaxed, still proudly on display. “Anyone in our position would see it, I imagine?”
Slowly, Silendiel relaxed her neck just so, enough that, over time, her head shifted, and she ended up leaning against Neryn’s thigh, her head thus surrounded by the strength of her sentinel. Hand, and thigh. Not a position she would have imagined herself ever taking, much less negotiating from, but there was just some tiny little spark, a twinge of protective energy, that made her lean in. Liriel had her own. Had no right to so wantonly look at Neryn.
Without looking up, Silendiel spoke to Neryn. “What do you think? Should I grant the priestess this favor?”
“I’m not impartial in this matter,” Neryn said. “You understand my loyalties. As does Liriel. I would grant the favor, but it must be your decision, little sun.”
Silendiel exhaled, her skin warming, even if it was bared to the world. It would be terribly easy for someone like Neryn to patronize, to take charge, to demand to be obeyed, to make every possible decision. Frightfully easy. And yet, she refused, she refrained from so stepping on Silendiel’s territory. In spite of the violence of their bodies meeting, still evidenced by the reddish hue of much of her face, Silendiel reassured herself that she could trust Neryn. Oddly, in a deeper way than she could trust almost anyone else. Within her own chambers, their relationship was clear. Defined. Precisely as exploitative as it should be, in the right ways. Entirely as respectful as it ought to be in all the others.
“I do not share her reverence for the priestess, but I recognize that I have a debt, of my own making, to begin to repay. Things to make up for,” Silendiel said. Her eyes settled back on Liriel’s. “As atonement, a beginning, I suppose you may find place under my roof for this demonstration.”
“Thank you, my Lady,” Liriel said. She bowed, precisely as a servant would to one of her betters, and Silendiel felt somewhat more at ease.
“But, on certain conditions,” Silendiel said. “To the extent possible, I want this all to be an anonymous affair. I would prefer the prospects not knowing where they are taken. I do not want Neryn to be involved in these demonstrations, nor me.” She paused, trying to glance up at the kaldorei, having just spoken for her. Reminding herself to apologize, later, she felt no twitch, no tension, that would indicate any upset. Continued, then. “I would prefer that it be done late, such that my staff are either asleep, or about to be.”
For a long moment, Liriel’s eyes seemed to rest on Neryn’s. There was some sort of interaction between the two, something wordless, to which the small, kaldorei-marked woman eventually acquiesced by bowing her head.
“As you wish, my Lady,” Liriel said. “I’ll be in contact again when I have enough candidates for a demonstration. Until then, by your leave, I’ll go.”
Silendiel offered a single, refined nod. Before someone who had, she assumed, experienced being in a state very similar to hers, it proved possible to somehow be marked by the brutal affections of the kaldorei, and yet affect some small amount of refinement. Grace. It seemed almost absurd, but perhaps it was the statuesque, unwavering presence next to her that gave her the strength to summon some small measure of imperious energy.
Liriel left, as quietly and quickly as she had come in, presumably on Neryn’s leave and by her appointment. Silendiel breathed in, and sighed that breath out, closing her eyes for a long moment. “I want to apologize. For speaking for you,” she said. “Moments hinge on who appears to have control, who has the power in a conversation. I did not mean to make any decision for you.”
“Little sun,” Neryn said. “Is that the heart of an empath I hear, beating beneath that mask of disaffection and nobility?”
“Pray, do not tell anyone,” Silendiel said. She breathed out again, relaxing, leaning her head against her sentinel’s thigh. For a moment, at least, before she was denied this small comfort, Neryn moving. Sitting on her heels, on the floor, next to Silendiel, who remained in place. Hands still trapped behind her back, or she would have curled them around the low-hanging, heavy dome of her belly.
For but a moment, she wished that Neryn had remained, so that she could lean against her sentinel’s thigh, and sit, and recover. But the kaldorei found a place across from her, raised both of those large, slightly rough hands, heels of her palms near meeting as she set her hands on both sides of Silendiel’s face. Leaned in, and impressed a long, deep kiss upon her little sun’s lips. Somehow, incomprehensibly, even something so simple as a kiss was different with one’s hands bound behind one’s back, and Silendiel could not help but let out a tremulous, vulnerable sound as Neryn withdrew, breathing out, needy, as they separated again just so.
“I know you’re still worried. About all of this,” Neryn said, then. A rare, small smile rounded the sentinel’s expression just so, and she seemed almost kindly. For a moment. “But you face your fears. You allow yourself your desires. You showed off, showed yourself quite well, before a stranger who had seen you indulge in us.”
Silendiel breathed through partially opened lips, an audible thing, exhaling tension. She shrugged, just so, barely moving her shoulders at all. “It is easier when you realize that the one across from you has experienced precisely the situation you now find yourself in,” she said. “And I assume she has.”
“Liriel has spent many a morning and evening in the Captain’s close company,” Neryn said.
“We both flaunt social convention, then,” Silendiel said. “As I said, it is easier to do so in the company of those who do the same.”
“Still,” Neryn said. “Another little step. And I find your little steps very attractive.”
“Attractive enough to untie me, perhaps? I promise I shan’t flee the moment you do so.”
“Silly,” Neryn said. She leaned in, then, not for another kiss, but settling Silendiel against herself, reaching around her to begin undoing the rope tied around the restraints, and, following that, undoing the padded cuffs.
Silendiel breathed out against Neryn’s uniform, finding a place to rest there. Closing her eyes.
It was announced in advance when, a few days later, Liriel appeared once more. A nervous-looking servant came to Silendiel, then, and told her that the seneschal of the kaldorei embassy had appeared outside, twin sentinel guards in tow, and wished to speak to the Lady of the house. Silendiel instructed that the visitors, unannounced, be made to wait some ten minutes, and then set about dragging Neryn from her post, which she took surprisingly seriously, and into the sanctum. A chaise sturdy enough to carry the weight of the large Lieutenant was pushed into just the right position – that was, Silendiel asked Neryn to do it, and it was done – and then asked her to lie atop the thing.
Neryn, unused to such decadence as lying down seemed to be when one was not trying to sleep, arranged herself almost in an upright position, leaning upon the raised back of the chaise with one elbow. Looking upon this arrangement was the tutting, slightly critical Silendiel, who asked her steadfast, stubborn sentinel to shift just so, here, there, to spread her legs. To scoot a little further onto the seat. After which, Silendiel found her place there, too, settling her firm butt as far up against Neryn’s crotch as she could possibly get it, then leaning back, draped against, over, her sentinel’s front. Leaned back, and to the side just so, one forearm and hand resting on Neryn’s thigh, the side that also carried that huge, if dormant, monster.
Thus arranged, the two waited for Liriel’s entry. Time passed, and, by pure coincidence, happenstance, Neryn’s free hand found its way around Silendiel, snaked around her waist, fingers splayed and pushing against her once more flat stomach, just so. She felt, keenly, how Neryn reacted to the insistent parking of her modest, if firm, ass so close, and suspected that the meeting would have to be short, or, otherwise, the afternoon would pass with more of those hard, bruising, beloved impacts against her skin.
Liriel entered, moved up to a spot on the floor five steps before where Silendiel draped herself over Neryn, and then offered a bow. Again, the practiced bow of a servant, used to such movements. Thinking little to nothing of such deference. The seneschal had been a servant before rising to her position in the embassy, that much, Silendiel thought, was certain. She offered a benevolent smile.
“Seneschal.”
“My Lady,” Liriel said. She righted herself, offered a brief look and bow of her head to Neryn, who seemed satisfied, once more, to let the locals arrange matters. Save for the occasional bit of pressure against Silendiel’s stomach, through the dress she wore.
“Today, I’m the proxy of priestess Iralis,” Liriel said.
“As ever,” Silendiel said, affecting a light, but silent, sigh. “Tell me, what does she wish for, now?”
“We have been unable to find anyone, a suitable pair, to demonstrate the physical union,” Liriel said. She looked in Silendiel’s direction, but did not really appear to see anything. Recited, almost. “The priestess asks, instead, that the two of you do the demonstration.”
Silendiel breathed in, almost snapping for breath, no longer having to affect the sigh that followed. Pausing the conversation for just a moment, sheltering by turning her head to look up at Neryn, who pursed her lips and moved her head in an indication of assent too small to be a nod, she then turned back towards Liriel.
“She asks for a noble to put on some sordid show for a handful of commoners,” Silendiel said. Voice rising as she went on, agitation building. She breathed in, raised one hand to halt Liriel’s answer, and then shook her head. Not to deny, but to try to clear it. “Why can it not be someone else? Why can it not be you, seneschal?”
“It could be me, my Lady,” Liriel said. “I proposed as much to the priestess. She felt that my ... the blessing she had to bestow upon me, in order for me to be ... compatible, with the Captain, would unsettle the prospects. Might scare them off.”
“Blessing?”
Liriel indicated the silvery rune upon her forehead, shining with dim light. More so than last time. Similarly, through the shirt the woman wore, Silendiel could see the faint indications of glowing, silvery bands spiraling about her form. And an ever so slight bump, her stomach still bearing the last remnants of what no doubt was the most recent union of her and the Captain.
“It is fueled by my Captain’s ... essence,” she said. Trying and failing to hide the slight embarrassment she must feel in a crooked smile. It was one thing to dedicate oneself to one of the sentinels, and quite another to stand tall before someone else, even someone else initiated in the rites, as Silendiel was, and admit to what went on.
“Naturally,” Silendiel said.
After a second, she sighed, and then craned her head back and turned it, so as to look up at Neryn. Her sentinel looked down, the hand draped around Silendiel’s body rising up it, slowly, until it cupped her cheek. Neryn nodded, then. A short movement, unhurried, and unworried. She did not smile, but neither was she unhappy. She accepted. In turn, Silendiel breathed in, and then returned her attention to Liriel.
“Fine,” Silendiel said. With that single word came a little wave, one that nevertheless crashed, rolled over her, the spray of this temporary ocean remaining behind as a fluttering of anxiety in her chest. That, and resolve. A hardening of her mind, some wordless desire to show herself, to show Neryn, off. As if to underline her acceptance, she nodded, and repeated herself. “Fine. We will do it, together. My conditions remain the same. I want as much anonymity as possible.”
“I’ll take care of my end, my Lady,” Liriel said. A relieved breath escaped the woman. Quiet, but easily noticed. “The rest, I believe, is up to you. And the Lieutenant. I shall bring what prospects we have to the mansion tomorrow, late evening. Just after ten. Will that do?”
“Yes, seneschal,” Silendiel said. She breathed in, her chest rising. Somehow, the tingling, which settled into her cheeks as well, now, expanded to fill whatever space was available. Was she less anxious if she tried to hold her breath, somehow? Silendiel nodded, once more. “We will be ready.”