EXTRACT FOR
The Eight-Tailed Fox
(Arian Wulf)

The guilt seemed to make its way back again as his expression got a little conflicted before it settled once more into an indifferent mask. 



"I know this has been difficult for you," he ventured at last after she had poured him his tea. 



Ram was off to the side, glaring resolutely to the ground. 



"I'm... adjusting," she replied diplomatically, which she believed was a huge improvement from the last time they had this conversation. Things were thrown and the vast majority of the things in the room had been burned in her anger. She supposed it was fear that made him bind her powers a few years after that. Her outbursts were starting to prove too dangerous for those around her and he needed to keep the people safe from her. 



And it wasn't a lie. 



She was adjusting to having gone back to her past. A do-over. 



It still caught her off-guard sometimes when she looked in the mirror and didn't see her ears. In a way, she missed that she didn't need to pretend to be something she's not. There was so much for her to sort through and mull over, but confinement to her room and this small part of her estate got pretty dull before long. No wonder she was depressed and thought that it would be easier to end her life. 



Daemon sighed. 



"I really didn't plan to... to fall in love with someone else," he said. 



She waited for that terrible ache in her heart, that stabbing pain through her veins and the feeling like he had stabbed through her ribcage and was attempting to yank her heart out through her chest... but it never came. She raised an eyebrow at him. 



"You don't believe me," he murmured, sounding like he was the one who was being wronged. 



"Nobody plans to fall in love a second time," she countered. "It is what you do when you do that counts. Fighting off the temptation to stray and promising to be faithful bears more weight, than apologizing for the lack of fidelity," she said, pleased that she was able to be so level-headed about this. They didn't have this conversation the last time. She was too angry to hear anything he had to say after that rather ludicrous apology. 



Daemon looked taken aback, like the thought had never crossed his mind before. 



With a shrug, she sipped her tea and cast her sight out to the garden. Her strawberry patch was coming long nicely. She had thought of saying all those things the last time, months after he had left and sentenced her to another lengthy period of isolation. She was keen to hear the man's answer now that she finally had the chance to say them out loud. 



"Calling it a lack of fidelity seems excessive," he finally said. 



"Perhaps I should call it a betrayal instead?" she asked. Her words were biting, but her tone was calm, like she was asking about the weather.



"Any other man of my station would have had a dozen wives and consorts," he countered.



"You promised to love me," she said. 



"I've loved only you for a dozen years," he countered. 



"Oh?" she arched a brow at him and put her tea down before she broke the cup in her frustration. "I wasn't aware that your love came with an expiration date."