Honestly, this man knew exactly how to exploit my weaknesses.
Her world spun, and her mind went blank.
Eleanor lowered her head, her pale little hands clasped awkwardly together as her toe traced the floor. A deep blush colored her cheeks. She averted her eyes stiffly, clearly still a little unwilling to concede. "You didn't have to say it in front of my Lady!"
"Taking advantage of me!" Eleanor finally delivered her verdict on Aaron. Miss Cleric pursed her lips, looking as though steam might start rising from her head.
She was already on the verge of losing control, yet she still tried to pretend she was composed.
It was her last stand.
Eleanor knew she had been utterly defeated from the outset of this war, losing again and again. Just as she had confessed in her prayers to the Lady of Silver, she had no initiative whatsoever. Aaron could make her laugh whenever he wanted, or make her angry whenever he pleased. She simply couldn't control herself.
Miss Cleric wasn't particularly attuned to her own feelings, but even she realized how bad this was. She was far too passive.
She repeatedly tried to regain control, only for Aaron to effortlessly thwart her every time. Again and again, she tasted the sweetness of affection, yet she was terrified of losing it.
She felt like a puppet in Aaron's hands, dancing to the movements of his baton-and worse, she enjoyed it.
A girl in love always had a little fragile pride. That pride gave rise to many misunderstandings, ultimately creating countless tragedies.
Yet that little scrap of pride was also a symbol of love, something that absolutely, absolutely could not be missing. Precisely because that humble little bit of pride represented a girl's purest, most ardent, most sacred love!
"I... you..."