"Aixue?"
Sienna's mother stirred awake and called softly, reaching out from under the covers for the Magic Lamp.
Scenes flashed through Annan's mind: Sienna's mother turning on the lamp and seeing him, the Guards rushing in to arrest him, his disqualification from the Championship Tournament. Without that chance, he would lose his Fief. Without a Fief, he would end up a plaything for wealthy ladies... He couldn't let her turn on the lamp!
For the first time, Annan resorted to strength instead of magic. He lunged onto the bed and pulled the velvet quilt hard over Sienna's mother.
At first, Sienna's mother struggled so fiercely that Annan felt like a little boat tossed by enormous waves. Two fair-skinned hands slipped out and clawed at him. He braced himself to be scratched, and her flailing hands did hurt when they caught his shoulders and cheeks. But before long, she stopped struggling. The hand gripping him came to rest against his cheek, almost like a caress. Only the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the quilt remained.
Annan guessed she was short of air or had exhausted herself. In the lull, he regained his composure and found a way out. He lifted the quilt, tucked her limp hands beneath it, then rushed to the terrace, opened the door, and vaulted over the railing.
He cast one last, longing look at the bedroom—the dressing table seemed to glitter like Gold Coins—then leaped from the terrace into the Flower Garden below.
Fortunately, it was early winter, and the thorny flowers had long since withered. Annan landed in the soft Soil, looked up, wiped away his footprints in the Flower Garden, and hurried off to meet Sienna, dragging his aching right leg.
Meanwhile, after leading Annan and Martin out of the Manor, Sienna