[ The touch of his fingers against her own, gentle and careful, is enough to inspire a flood of warmth inside of her. To be touched, even from behind the careful protection of her gloves, means more to her than she might be able to say with words, her heart aching from it. The urge to fold herself into his arms and not let herself go is too much, and she has to force herself to resist.

He is too kind to her. To take advantage of that kindness, and have him spurn her... It would be impossible to fathom.

Instead, she nods, as if all there was to concern herself with was following along the conversation, idle and monotone. ]

Before the forest?

[ She frowns. Before Myr, or before her curse? It's hard to parse what he might ask her for, so she goes back as far as her memory might take her. ]

I lived in the Feywild, in the Seelie court. My mother and father were whatever nobility might be found there, and I grew with them, as a guest upon the floor of the Queen. I was to be grown and wedded, as soon as I was of proper age.