“Meant to be,” Tallis scoffed, “I often think the Phearsons have confused me for one of their mares—a beast to be bred, for surely women have no other function, eh?” She raised an eyebrow at Severus before bending to unlace her boots. While there was a hint of bitterness to it, her tone was mostly playful. Like a cat gleefully batting around a mouse on the floor.

The wind had started to wail and the rain still pelted down on the roof of the barn.

Tallis scoffed. Truth be told, she had more in common with an unbroken mare than a little lady like the Phearson girl. In keeping with that theme, she tossed her now only lightly damp hair back with a flourish. Despite her best efforts, she was still soaked. Tallis went back to wringing out her shirt, leaning over so that it dripped onto the stable floor instead of onto her lap.

Cezar’s question made her pause. Though it was an entirely reasonable and expected one, Tallis seemed momentarily stumped. She looked at Cezar with her dark, calculating eyes, considering him before speaking with blunt finality.

“Though I’m repulsed by the idea of marriage, it seems in my situation it is a necessary evil. That being the case,” Tallis sighed, resigned in defeat, “Truth be told, I’m not so sure I can do better than you.” Then, with matter-of-fact indifference, she went back to trying to draw the water from her clothes, though to no avail. As she did, she moved her shoulder in a way she hadn't before and visibly winced.

Tallis rolled her eyes. Seventeen and she still hadn’t shaken her bitterness. She could appear as sweet as honey when she needed to, but in the end she was nothing but piss and vinegar. Cezar was not evil himself—he inhabited an oppressive system the same as she did, only he had the good fortune of being born a man.

Grumpy, Tallis started to test her shoulder. “I’m fi—” She moved wrong and hissed with pain. She felt something shift, or tear, or otherwise send a hot flash of pain that made her snap her arm to her side.

Tallis’s skin felt hot. Her instinct was to shove him away out of sheer stubbornness. But before she could do so, a crack of lighting broke through the thundering rain, making the horse shriek again. It would distract her enough not to push back against his approach.

“Fine,” she said begrudgingly, holding her arm at an awkward angle and standing still so he could tend to it.

Tallis grunted at his warning. There was no pain that he could inflict that she hadn’t already felt sevenfold. Her father had been brutal in his methods in seeing she was able to control her ‘gift’. It was the only way to keep the world from rotting around her; to keep them safe. So, Tallis welcomed whatever pain Cezar would bring. Pain brought healing. Strength. Betterment.

When his hands moved to her shoulder, something unexpected stirred in her. It wasn’t… well, what was it exactly? Tallis hadn’t felt anything like it before. She was not a sexual creature, not prone to flights of fancy and burning loins the way that Blanka was. This was different, this was—

Tallis inhaled sharply as his hands moved. The ever-moving woman grew still, even leaning into the touch of the man she claimed to despise.

Tallis was surprised by how good it felt. There was warmth, but not burning; discomfort, but not pain. On top of that, the closeness of contact was not something Tallis was used to. Her own father hardly touched her, and when he did it was either a slap across the face or a pat on the shoulder—both done with equal love. But Cezar’s proximity was almost addictive. Not in an explicitly sexual way, but simply out of a craving for human connection. Much to her embarrassment and annoyance, Tallis let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief and…pleasure? Something, anyway.

“You’re just—full of tricks, aren’t you?” Tallis said, trying to maintain her nonchalance but miserably failing.