That same banner had flown above her head when she was conscripted and dragged from her home to be forced into the Elvardian army. It was under that crest she had fought battles not her own, until the day she was captured and enslaved.
Her life should have been destroyed beyond repair as a result. Any other master could have reduced her to nothing but a degraded fuckdoll as she had not a single clause protecting her in her slave contract… but Quinlan had torn apart the contract's chains and rebuilt her life instead to become so much better than before her eyes first found the cursed image of the banner.
She didn't even notice her breath had quickened until a warm hand clasped hers. Blossom's. A moment later, Serika's hand slid around her other palm. Somehow, both women had felt her tension spike.
They didn't answer, only tightened their grips. The silent reassurance was louder than words.
