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evandearest · 3 years

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The Garden of Eden | Part II: Reflection

Pairing: James March x reader (you) | ~Part: (2/4)~

Summary (Part Two): When memories are all that clouds your vision, how do you begin to break cycles and live in the present? Can you overcome your irrational fear when paradise is only a memory of long ago? Living through hell can make or break you.

Warnings (in this part): Slight PTSD, that’s all I would say.

Word count: 3,586

Notes: I’m so excited to be posting this! This part is quite a bit longer than the last one. I absolutely loved writing it though! Be on the lookout for many metaphors, biblical references, and *reflective* events. This part is complex in many ways, and a lot of things tie into one another. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!!

Also a side note, if you’d like to be on the tag list for this series just let me know!

Tag List: @etoile-writings @haileyybird @ietss

An odd feeling settled upon you as rays of sunlight blinded your eyes. Something wasn’t right. You couldn’t exactly pin it down, but all you knew was that you felt calm. Calm was not a part of you, as much as you portrayed to others that it was. Spending nearly ten years with a man you didn’t trust could do that to you.

The bed underneath you was soft, the scent in the air surrounding you lavender. You wondered for a moment where you were, your heart jumping as your eyes glanced around you frantically. That’s when you remembered: you were in James’ hotel. James’.

Your nerves lessened when you thought about James, a small smile curling your lips. As soon as you had arrived at the hotel, he insisted that you get a room to yourself to get the best rest possible. He’d even sent his maid to give you a basket of everything lavender to help you sleep: candles, essential oils, soap. He practically spoiled you the minute you arrived. You couldn’t deny how good it felt, though. You felt like a queen.

You sat up in bed, wondering where the man pervading your thoughts was. You glanced at your side table, noticing the vase of white roses immediately. When had those gotten there? The tiny card leaning against the vase caught your attention in particular. You reached for it and opened it. The small note was in James’ neat handwriting, reading:

“Good morning, darling. Gather yourself and meet me in the lounge. I do hope my accommodations suited you. Yours truly, JPM.”

You smiled, your curiosity spiraling at the thought of what he had planned for you. You quickly jumped out of the bed, going to the bathroom to get ready. You noticed immediately of all the things in this bathroom that weren’t normally in hotel bathrooms. There were tons of beauty items for women that most men don’t even know exist. You knew it was James. He was so thoughtful, giving you anything you could possibly need and more. James had taken the time to be sure you had everything. Your heart fluttered at the thought, excitement settling within you. James really did have everything, and now you had James. You knew it was going to take a long while before you were used to this luxurious treatment, but you weren’t complaining. You’d dreamed of living this kind of life since you were merely a child.

Once you had showered, gotten dressed, and did your hair and makeup, you were ready. You smiled at your reflection. James had picked the most fashionable clothing to put in your closet, and you simply loved having a reason to dress up in general. But it wasn’t even about you, in reality. You wanted James to see how much you appreciated everything he was doing, so you were going to make sure that you put all he gave you to use. It was all for James. You were going to spend every second doing as much as you could for him. He had saved you, after all. You couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened if James hadn’t arrived when he did. That was the worst argument that you and Robert had ever had.

You scolded yourself for thinking of Robert. You needed to focus on now, on the new life you were beginning. You couldn’t just shake it off, though. You still felt the need to be vigilant, to walk on egg shells. You sighed. You didn’t want to be in a bad mood today, of all days. James needed to see how much you appreciated and cared for him. You took a deep breath. Just focus on now, you told yourself, before taking one last look at your reflection.

When you entered the lobby, you were surprised to be greeted immediately by James’ maid, Miss Evers.

“Right this way, Ms. Y/L/N,” the woman smiled, gesturing with her arm for you to follow. She made her way up the stairs, you following behind curiously. It was as if she was escorting you somewhere. Your questions weren’t left unanswered for long, however, as you found your answer at the top of the stairs.

The entire bar was empty, which seemed odd compared to it’s usually bustling atmosphere. The dining area was decorated to the brim with white roses, all surrounding a table in which had plates full of fruit, pancakes, eggs, and many other breakfast foods. You gasped quietly at the extravagance as your eyes landed on James, who stood in front of it all, hands clasped together politely as he awaited you. He smiled at the sight of you.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted, walking over and offering an arm to you. You stared at him in disbelief for a moment, a wave of déjà vu coursing through you.

You remember you were so excited. Los Angeles was a gorgeous city in it’s own, and you felt so lucky to have been born in a city in which held so much opportunity. You were merely fourteen; barely old enough to even think for yourself, but you’d always been smart. Your mother had assured you of that since you were born, always putting your education above all else. She’d told you, “One day when all the distractions of young age are gone, you’ll realize why you need to be prepared.” You hadn’t understood why then, but the words had always stuck with you. It was one of the first times that she had trusted you on your own. Most of the time, she had always put her fear for your safety first, but on that day she had given in to your pleas.

She had let you walk to the garden of white roses, three blocks down, by yourself. When you thought about it now, you realized just how defining that moment of your life was, because what happened when you got to that garden had changed your life forever.

White roses had always been your favorite flower, ever since you had first passed that blooming Southern California garden at three years old. The owner was a tiny sweet elder lady, gracious and elegant as ever. She had owned the garden her entire life; it was her pride and joy. She’d always welcomed polite visitors, and if she caught you, she’d tell you all about the flowers, and how special they were. She said that they had brought to her all of the pleasantries that her life held; love, wealth, and even an eternal feeling of youth. That’s why she never picked or sold them, she said; “if you betray the rose, the rose no longer profits you.” Some people said that she was a witch; you just thought she was sweet, maybe a little kooky, but nice nonetheless. You had grown to look up to her.

When you had arrived at the rose garden on that day, however, you were greeted with a new presence foreign to you. The boy stood as still as a statue, his eyes raking over his surroundings. Based upon his height and physical appearance, you had assumed that he was about the same age as you. You watched him as he picked a rose from the bush, bringing it up to his nose to smell. You approached him quietly.

“If Mrs. Smith knew you picked one of her flowers, she’d claim treason,” you said, catching the boy’s attention. He looked at you in bewilderment.

“Where did you come from?” he asked quietly. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sneaky,” you said jokingly with a teasing smile. He blinked, his confusion still evident. “But seriously,” you continued, “you better hope she doesn’t see you. She doesn’t like people who disturb her flowers. In fact, she’d probably curse you.” At that, the boy smirked.

“Is she a witch?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

“Some people think so,” you replied, walking closer to him. “If you ask me, I think people should listen to her. She’s very intelligent.” You nudged his side, watching him to gouge his reaction. He raised his eyebrows, watching you carefully.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, for one, she’s ancient. That gives her some credits. For another, she grew this garden, and she’s experienced much more than most people. You should hear her stories.” You smiled as you plucked the rose from the boy’s hand and twirled it between your fingers, admiring it.

“She sounds fascinating.”

“She is.” After a moment of silence, you looked up at him, only to catch his eyes. You smiled shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“James March,” the boy said, offering his hand to you.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N,” you introduced yourself in return, smiling up at him.

There was another moment of silence, the both of you just staring at one another. James suddenly took the rose from you again. He pulled a knife from his pocket, your heart stuttering slightly at the sight of it. But James didn’t try to harm you, he simply chopped the stem of the rose off. His hand came up to your face as you smiled nervously at him.

“I think your wrong,” he said, tucking the rose in your hair behind your ear. He stepped back, smiling softly at you. “See? Sometimes even dying flowers can serve a beautiful purpose. It’s a sacrifice. Sacrifices aren’t evil.” You paused, a shy blush forming on your cheeks at his actions.

“I never thought of it that way,” you whispered, reaching up to tuck the rose more firmly behind your ear. You smiled at James, a weird feeling you’d never felt before settling upon you. His simple action and thoughtful words had made you excited in a way you’d never known. It had created a spark; a strong urge inside of you that was almost indescribable. And as you looked in his eyes, you wanted nothing more than to relive that feeling over and over again. You swore you’d never let him go.

Suddenly, you were looking at his face again, but this time much older.

“Darling, are you alright?” James asked, and you blinked quickly, your focus shifting present.

“Yes,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you realized just how deep into the memory you had been. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s quite alright, dear,” he said, studying you. “Are you sure you feel pleasant? You were quite far gone, I called your name several times. Did you rest well?”

“Yes, of course,” you said quickly, reaching out to clasp his hand tightly as you smiled reassuringly. “I promise. You just surprised me, is all.” James nodded, seeming fairly convinced, before smiling and gesturing towards the table.

“Alright darling, well why don’t you sit and eat something. A proper meal should do just the trick.” You smiled and nodded back at him, moving to sit in your chair that he pulled out for you. Once you were situated, James moved to sit across from you at the other end of the table.

“I wasn’t sure what you enjoyed most, so I instructed Miss Evers to make several morning dishes,” he said, grinning at you. “I hope it’s suiting for you.”

“Of course,” you said, placing a few items on your plate. A few minutes passed as you ate, your mind drifting back to last night’s events in the silence.

“Are you happy, my love?” James suddenly asked, snapping you out of your thoughts once again.

“Yes,” you replied quickly, smiling at him sincerely, “yes of course!” You could tell from the look of concern still on James’ face that he wasn’t convinced. You sighed, deciding to just be honest with him. “I just... it’s difficult to process how my life just changed.” You paused, watching James closely for a reaction. He stared, waiting for you to elaborate, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I’ve been alone for so long, living a horrible, unhappy life. I’m happy now, with you, but I can’t just turn that feeling off, that feeling that this moment is fleeting. It-- it terrifies me...” You trailed off, your mind wondering as you stared at the roses around you. The roses that James decided to decorate your breakfast with. The roses that had ultimately brought you together in the first place. The roses that James kept bringing around for you. Your roses. You turned your attention back to James, your eyes meeting his.

“These flowers, why did you pick them?” you asked him seriously. A look of confusion clouded James’ expression.

“Well,” James started, “I suppose they have some semblance to us, darling... these were the very flowers--”

“Of course, I remember...” you trailed off, thinking of what to say next. “But really, there has to be more to it...” It came out as more of a question than a statement. You just didn’t understand why he was bringing up all of these memories.

“Of course, dear,” James said, sighing. He looked you in the eyes, and you could see the sincerity there. “I knew you wouldn’t recover in a day, a week, a month, even a year...” he paused, his eyes downcast at the tablecloth. “I just hoped that by reminding you of what we can be once again will help you settle. My only wish is to make you happy...” he paused again, his eyes shifting back up to meet yours. This time you were met with certainty. “I want to take us back to that time. To that garden. To when we flourished the most even if the rest of the world was, well...”

“Hell. The rest of the world was hell,” you finished for him, your eyes teary at his sweet sentiment. James, however, faltered slightly at your words. You paused, taking note of the way he cringed at the mention of hell, before you reached to grab his hand, squeezing it tightly, lovingly. “Thank you James.” Your voice held so much emotion, and at that, James stood before walking over to you and pulling you out of your chair and into his embrace.

“Darling,” James whispered into your hair. You hummed in response, burying your face into his chest, breathing in his manly scent. You clasped onto him tightly. “Whatever may happen, I promise I will never let you slip from my grasp ever again... you shall never be afraid again. I would give everything away just for your happiness. You inform me and I will have it done for you, whatever you may need.” It was a firm promise, and you knew he meant it. James didn’t make empty promises. Your chest felt as if it might explode with love and adoration for this man. He really did want to give you the world. He really was your heaven... your God.

-♥-

After you had finished breakfast, James had insisted that he take you on a tour of the Cortez, and you weren’t going to turn him down. It was his pride and joy, and regardless, it was the most gorgeous place you had ever stepped foot into. You were nearly finished, with only two more floors to explore, when James started acting strange.

“James, what’s wrong?” you asked, placing your hand on his arm. He grimaced before looking at you nervously.

“Well, you see...” he trailed off for a moment, his voice hesitant. You began to get concerned. “These floors are still under slight renovation...” You giggled at his words.

“James,” you said sweetly, “it’s okay, I’m not afraid of a little dirt.”

“Well, no, that’s-”

“I’m serious,” you interrupted, giggling once again. The elevator dinged as you reached your destination. You smiled before taking his hand and leading him out. He sighed, still looking standoffish.

James had been telling the truth; there was a particular section of the hallway in which there was a wall being built, but it was small. You didn’t understand what he was so nervous about.

Suddenly, a loud shout rang out through the hallway, causing both you and James to flinch in surprise. There was a sound of commotion and James quickly walked towards the scene; you following closely behind him.

“What’s the issue?” James demanded someone standing at the back of the gathering crowd of men. There was a sound of someone groaning in pain. You stood at a distance away, more interested in the small white rose twirling between your fingers.

“One of the construction workers collapsed, sir,” the man informed him. At this point you’d lost interest, zoning in on the pretty rose in your hands. James barked a few orders at the men, but you weren’t really paying attention.

You looked up as James returned to you.

“I apologize for the interruption,” James said, obviously irritated.

“What’s the problem?” you asked, confused.

He paused, looking at you softly, “I thought that may have worried you.”

“Men get hurt all the time,” you said passively.

“Of course...” James trailed off, looking slightly confused, which made you confused. What did you do? Were you supposed to be worried? You brushed it off, smiling at him expectantly.

“Ready to continue with the tour?” you asked him, turning your back on him. You began walking back down the hall, glancing behind to see James following you. You rounded the corner, only to run into someone unexpectedly.

You stumbled backwards, nearly tripping. Luckily James stabled you before you hit the ground. You looked up, your eyes landing on a beautiful blonde woman. You paused, studying her, before a realization dawned upon you. You’d seen this woman before.

You remember her distinctly, for she was the person who had ultimately made you lose all hope. James’ wife, Elizabeth. You’d seen her all that time ago when you had first tried to escape your husband. She’s the woman that had made you believe James didn’t love you anymore.

When James had come back for you, you’d assumed that his relationship with her had failed. So why was she here?

“Why, hello,” the woman said, glancing between you and James, a weird grin on her face. She looked at James. “And who might this lovely lady be?”

You turned to look at James, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. James’ jaw was clenched as he stared at Elizabeth, and right there and then you knew he didn’t like her.

“It’s okay, James,” she purred, her smirk never leaving. “I’m not offended. We both knew it was never going to work.” She turned to you. “You must be Y/N. I’m Countess Elizabeth.” She offered a hand to you, and you took it gracefully. James was disturbingly quiet beside you. You decided to take the ropes.

“Yes, that’s correct,” you replied smoothly.

“What’s all the commotion down the hall?” Elizabeth asked curiously. You could tell that she had some kind of ulterior motive, otherwise she would have moved on.

“Nothing important,” you replied nonchalantly. It was the truth. You didn’t feel the need to be competitive with this woman anymore; you knew who James stood by, and you trusted him. You turned to him, intertwining your arms together. “James here was just giving me a tour. I hope you don’t mind?” You smiled politely at Elizabeth. She paused, her expression one of slight surprise. It seemed to be a strange look on her.

“Of course not,” she said through tight lips. “You two have fun.” You smiled at her kindly once more, before you and James continued on, arm in arm.

Once in private in the elevator, James turned to you.

“I have to say,” James said, smiling at you, “you handled that well. You do know that Elizabeth was... shall I say, challenging you?”

“I know,” you said, smiling at him reassuringly. “But that’s the thing: she was the one challenging me. Obviously she thought she had something to fight for. I know what’s mine.” James expression morphed into one of surprise, and then pride.

“Of course you do, dear,” he said, smiling down at you. He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. The kiss was loving and at the same time slightly rough. You loved how James could make you feel like this; so powerful. After a heated moment, he pulled away.

“Darling, despite your present confidence in the matter,” he began, “I’d like you to know that regardless of Elizabeth and I’s history, she will never compare to your glamour. You truly are a revelation like no other.”

You smiled once more at his words, thinking back to that day in the garden once more, and to your mother’s words. The feeling you had now was a reflection of the feeling you had then. He’d always made you feel so incredibly self-assured. You felt like no matter what happened to you and James, nothing could break you at this point and time. And your mother had been right: gaining the knowledge was important.

Now that you’d ate the fruit of the garden and survived hell, what could possibly stop you?

You felt invincible, so long as he was by your side. You no longer feared the past or the future; you were completely centered present, all cycles broken. And it had took James less than a day to make you feel this way. Your excitement soared as you thought about your future with James. You knew that so long as you had him, you were unstoppable together. You were gods.

You didn’t need the garden, after all. Paradise lost stood no match to you, because with James, you could survive anything.

---

Series Masterlist: The Garden of Eden Series

Main Masterlist

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goforwardgreenwriter-blog · 6 years

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The Worm Reads: The Assassin’s Blade, Ch 11-12

Hopefully this next story is more interesting than the last!

This next story is The Assassin and the Healer. Also, since this is a new story, this is technically Chapter 1 again, but for the sake of this review, we’ll call it Chapter 11.

The strange young woman had been staying at the White Pig Inn for two days now and had hardly spoken to anyone save for Nolan, who had taken one look at her fine night-dark clothes and bent over backward to accommodate her.

The strange young woman, in case you’re wondering, is actually Celery herself. Meaning that we’re in a new POV! Thank god, I needed a break from being in Celery’s head.

Yrene Towers had been watching the young woman from the safety of the taproom bar. Watching, if only because the stranger was young and unaccompanied and sat at the back table with such stillness that it was impossible not to look. Not to wonder.

Yup, this story features Yrene, the healer who would later be in T0D. I can’t bear to read T0D and witness the butchering of my sweet innocent Chaol, but I’ve heard the horror stories. *shudders*

Yrene glanced at the mug she was currently cleaning and tried not to wince. She did her best to keep the bar and taproom clean, to serve the Pig’s patrons (...) with a smile. But Nolan still watered down the wine, still washed the sheets only when there was no denying the presence of lice and fleas, and sometimes used whatever meat could be found in the back alley for their daily stew.

Fucking nasty shit right there. Disgusting. I’d say let Yrene move somewhere else, but, well..... T0D showed what a mistake that was.

Yrene quickly poured ale into the mug she’d just been drying and set it on a tray. She added a glass of water and some more bread, since the girl hadn’t touched the stew she’d been given for dinner. Not a single bite. Smart woman.

Yrene is under the impression Celery is aware of how contaminated the food is and that someone might have tried to spike her food, so she’s wise not to eat it. Keep this in mind for later.

Yrene brings up another server named Jessa who takes most of the tips from the inn so SJM can slutshame another female character for using her sexuality and daring to be *gasp* feminine. SJM can kiss my ass.

Like most who hailed from southern Fenharrow, Yrene had golden-tan skin and absolutely ordinary brown hair and was of average height.

So is Yrene just a white girl with a tan, or......? I mean, golden-tan implies a tan in my eyes, but who knows.

Celaena Sardothien sat at her table in the absolutely worthless inn, wondering how her life had gone to hell so quickly.

Big Mood. Also, ungh, we’re back in Celery’s POV.

She’d been here for two days now—two days spent either holed up in her despicable room (a “suite,” the oily innkeeper had the nerve to call it), or down here in the taproom that stank of sweat, stale ale, and unwashed bodies.

Am I the only one umcomfy with how much SJM puts emphasize on all the evil/greedy characters being ugly? Like I know it’s just a book series, but coming from someone who is average looking and has very difficult hair that gets oily if I don’t wash twice a day, this just makes me uncomfortable. Maybe that’s just me.

Celaena sighed and took a long drink of her ale. She almost spat it out. Disgusting. Cheap as cheap could be, like the rest of this place. Like the stew she hadn’t touched. Whatever meat was in there wasn’t from any creature worth eating. Bread and mild cheese it was, then.

Nope, Celery isn’t concerned at all that flaunting her wealth around might cause her to gain a few enemies. The stew simply doesn’t live up to her expectations! I’m laughing.

She fought the urge to touch her face. The swelling from the beating Arobynn had given her had gone down, but the bruises remained. She avoided looking in the sliver of mirror above her dresser, knowing what she’d see: mottled purple and blue and yellow along her cheekbones, a vicious black eye, and a still-healing split lip.

Just throwing this out there in case anyone wants to defend Arobynn or say that he’s not all that bad because he took Celery in, he beat the shit out a sixteen year old. Real standup guy! Maybe I should review Q0S just to enjoy what happens to him...

There was no denying it: she’d merely been spoiling for a fight. No blades, no weapons. Just fists and feet. Celaena supposed she should feel bad about it—about the broken noses and jaws, about the heaps of unconscious bodies in her wake. But she didn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to care, because those moments she spent brawling were the few moments she felt like herself again. When she felt like Adarlan’s greatest assassin, Arobynn Hamel’s chosen heir.

Hmm, I like this? Yeah Celery is a violent asshole, but it explains her mindset and trauma well because she feels as an assassin she has to fight, that the thrill of a fight keeps her going since she’s been raised that way since she was young. Very nice. I’ll admit, this book isn’t nearly as bad as the later novels in the series. It’s got Sammy and a few good moments like this.

Celery toys with the idea of running away, but she knows that Arobynn would hunt her down to kill her and informs us she still has no idea where Sammy is. I swear, if he’s hurt-

Chapter 12 switches back to Yrene’s POV.

Yrene couldn’t have left even if she wanted to. Last call wasn’t for another forty minutes, and she’d have to stay an hour after that to clean up and usher intoxicated patrons out the door. She didn’t care where they went once they passed the threshold—didn’t care if they wound up facedown in a watery ditch—just as long as they got out of the taproom. And stayed gone.

Damn, I feel for you, Yrene. Let me just say as someone who had to volunteer dozens of hours in the Girl Guides to serve as a waitress for charity suppers and teas? I know that #feel of dealing with the most unbearable costumers.

It was common knowledge that [Celaena] was leaving tomorrow at dawn.

Um.... how? Nobody knows she is a famous assassin, and only the workers of the inn would know how long she’s paid to stay. Did Celery just announce to all these sketchy drunks she’s leaving tomorrow?

Yrene swallowed hard, pouring another mug of ale. Her mother wouldn’t have hesitated to warn the girl. But her mother had been a good woman—a woman who never wavered, who never turned away a sick or wounded person, no matter how poor, from the door of their cottage in southern Fenharrow. Never.

Another dead YA mom. Okay, I’m not against dead parents on principle (how can I be when one of my WIP’s protag’s arc is about discovering the past of his dead father), it’s a cliche old as time itself and for some stories, yeah it works. I just wish there were more YA moms who were alive and had a relationship with their kids, you know?

A bunch of costumers sexually harass Yrene because SJM novel, then we’re back in Celery’s POV.

Reckless and stupid, Sam would say. But Sam wasn’t here, and she didn’t know if he was dead or alive or beaten senseless by Arobynn. It was a safe bet Sam had been punished for the role he’d played in liberating the slaves in Skull’s Bay.

I miss Sammy... I want him and Yrene to become friends and abandon this shitty kingdom.

Sam had become her friend, she supposed. She’d never had the luxury of friends, and never particularly wanted any. But Sam had been a good contender, even if he didn’t hesitate to say exactly what he thought about her, or her plans, or her abilities.

Huh... SJM isn’t immediately playing up the romance drama just yet and actually acknowledges they need to be friends first? Color me both shocked and impressed. Idk why SJM dropped this for later novels, but I’ll give her props for this.

Sighing, she slipped into her room and bolted the door. After a moment, she shoved the ancient chest of drawers in front of it, too. Not for her own safety. Oh, no. It was for the safety of whatever fool tried to break in—and would then find himself split open from navel to nose just to satisfy a wandering assassin’s boredom.

I’m telling y’all, Celery is a psychopath. it’s one thing for an assassin character to be neutral towards killing and murder, it’s another for them to want to slice open randos just for fun.

But after pacing for fifteen minutes, she pushed aside the furniture and left. Looking for a fight. For an adventure. For anything to take her mind off the bruises on her face and the punishment Arobynn had given her and the temptation to shirk her obligations and instead sail to a land far, far away.

Bitch I wish you would. Take the rest of this shitty series with you while you’re at it.

Yrene lugged the last of the rubbish pails into the misty alley behind the White Pig, her back and arms aching. Today had been longer than most.

And another POV switch in the same chapter? Damn, if this book was written today, this entire chapter would’ve been split up into like, 3 separate chapters.

Unsurprisingly, Jessa had vanished with her sailor, and given that the alley was empty, Yrene could only assume the young woman had gone elsewhere with him. Leaving her, yet again, to clean up.

It is shitty of Jessa to leave Yrene to clean up all of the mess but I still don’t like that lowkey slutshaming from earlier.

I told you to wait until it’s past—” she started, but paused as four figures stepped from the mist. Men. The mercenaries from before. Yrene was moving for the open doorway in a heartbeat, but they were fast - faster.

Before you recoil in horror, no, SJM isn’t stupid enough to write a sexual assault scene. We aren’t at AC0TAR levels of disgusting and offensiveness, yet. The mercenaries only try to rob Yrene.

“Saw you making some hefty tips tonight, girl. Where are they?”

But it was Jessa making the tips and not Yrene, right?

The man farthest from them was yanked into the mist with a strangled cry. The mercenary holding her whirled toward him, dragging Yrene along. There was a ruffle of clothing, then a thump. Then silence. “Ven?” the man blocking the door called.

You get three guesses as to who is rescuing her. The first two don’t count.

“Come out, you bleedin’ coward,” the ringleader growled. “Face us like a proper man.” A low, soft laugh. Yrene’s blood went cold. Silba, protect her. She knew that laugh—knew the cool, cultured voice that went with it. “Just like how you proper men surrounded a defenseless girl in an alley?”

If only it wasn’t Celery to the rescue, I might be able to delightfully enjoy this moment of girls protecting girls. Alas.

With that, the stranger stepped from the mist. She had two long daggers in her hands. And both blades were dark with dripping blood.

Total nitpick, but wouldn’t “And both blades were dripping with dark blood’ sounds better?

Overall, this story, despite the lowkey slut shaming in one part, is much more enjoyable than the last, even though Sammy is still nowhere to be seen. We’ll just have to wait and see if SJM butchers it.

#the worm talks #the worm reads: tab #anti sjm #anti tog #anti tab

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