"My safety?" Desilva echoed, her eyebrows furrowing slightly at her mother's words. They exchanged eye contact for a second before a burst of hesitant laughter staggered out of Desilva's lips, "But mother, I'm safer here than I ever was at the village."
Memoline flinched and her head, once held up high, lowered as her eyes peered deep into Desilva. The tone of her voice dropped. "Silvi."
"We were getting visited by tax collectors almost every month and before his highness showed up, it was beginning to become a weekly attack," Desilva voiced, her arm drawing onto her lap protectively.
"Silvia..." Memoline muttered, her tone dropping as the air in the room stiffened.
