“Why did you do that?” the guard gasps as Miranda tugs the piece of cloth—she had used as a gag when she was tying him up to her desk’s chair—out of his mouth.
“What do you mean?” Miranda says, her hands rested against her hips whilst she observes him.
“You didn’t have to be so violent!” he cries.
“Oh?” She raises a brow and crosses her arms. “Were you expecting me to seduce you first and gently get that information out of you, perhaps? Sorry, but no, I don’t work that way. If I want something, I take it. Watch…”
Miranda circles around him. She stops once they are face-to-face and takes out another one of her daggers from the belt hanging by her side. As she points it towards his eyes, his groin, she carefully observes each and every single one of his reactions. “Well that’s rare. Doesn’t really seem like you care more for one or the other.”
“I care for my people.”
Miranda scoffs. “They trained you well then.”
Silence.
“Not going to talk, are we?”
He shakes his head. Miranda thinks she might have to clean up the blood that has dried against his chestnut bangs as he averts his gaze from hers. “You won’t be getting anything out of me. I am loyal to my pledge,” he mutters.
She stomps forward and grabs him by the collar. “Look me in the eye and dare say it again,” Miranda spits, “that you are loyal to a traitor.”
The young man smirks and faces her gaze straight on, his shade of forest green reflected in the oceans of her eyes. “I’m loyal to my cause,” he says. “And no one, not even you, will take that away from me.”
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