I was greeted, this fine morning, by a rather fine blast of lecturing from her.
"What gives you the right," she spluttered, pulling the warm covers off me, "to-to-"
"To what?" I asked, rather peeved. My dream for once had been a nice one, and she cut it short with her shrill whining. I could feel a headache coming.
"How dare you. How-how-" she was so angry she could only open her mouth and gasp a few breaths. Her hair hung in two braids, her dress dusty and dragged in mud.
"How dare I? It was my own work, wasn't it?"
"How am I going to explain this to him? The one thing he entrusted me with, and you ruin whatever shred of chance I could've have to-" she stopped, realizing who she was talking to.
"Yes?"
"-Never you mind," she snapped, rummaging around the room in a fit of frenzy. "Where are they? Where did you hide it?"
"I didn't hide anything," I pointed out, "What you have is everything. So far, anyway."
She turned around to snarl something odious at me, but caught sight of Option Number Two hanging in the wardrobe. A breeze flitted through the gap under the locked door, making it flutter and dangle in front of her jealous face.
Her hand moved as if on its own accord, fingers splayed out in desperation. Her lips quivered slightly, her longing plain upon her petite features.
Then her hand fell abruptly to her side. Without another glance behind, she left the room, letting the door swing shut behind her.
"Get to work, farm girl," she said, before climbing the stone stairs, her footsteps muffling the tremble in her otherwise icy tone.
I sat, her words stewing in my mind.
Farm girl.
Farm girl.
Farm girl.
Realization hit me, making my head spin.
She knows.