She was Lark again, not Will, in that tent. All the strange, out-of-body terror she'd felt when that monstrous Coldman had come for her. She'd been so much younger then, too. Her brother had taken a blade to his belly to keep a cock from hers. How strange. It made her breath sharp and her stare sharper, wordless as she stayed for his strange probing. His fingers in her wet mouth, those atrociously womanly lips begging for all kinds of make believe. She understood it, a little bit, but couldn't find a moment to fear for her lie. Her brows furrowed.<br/><br/>Was it different for Shy, among the other men, to belong to this knight? The way he said it informed all her reasonable instincts that she should take it as such. She tried to swallow but found she could not, her head and mouth fixed in such a position as he had her. A shaky breath through her nose, like, for a brief moment, she might have thought about lashing out. Shy knew better, though. She had less ground than she'd had when he'd beaten her onto the flat of her back. And he'd not invited her to come after him now. In this space, he was something like a gatekeeper again, wasn't he? She was so close to tasting war. Shy would bear this much compliance.<br/><br/>Her gaze flicked toward the gossiping suggestion in his cotton breeches. Shy had heard knights sometimes favored their daintiest page boys. Was that what this was, then? She did not know if this was how those knights would regard their boyish lovers--rocks for kicking--but Esfelt Silverum was not a knight known for taking leisure on campaign. Perhaps, was simply his way. Shy flinched when he drew closer still, fingers still hooked against her teeth. Will would most certainly have railed against this bizarre submission, she thought. Shy twitched when he opened his mouth. It was like time stretched to follow that little, glistening bead. She squeezed her eyes shut as it slipped and snapped, finding her tongue. How vulgar. For all her pretend, Shy did not understand men.<br/><br/>When he pushed her mouth shut, she did not swallow for a long moment, staring at him with those small, tense breaths through her nose filling the silence. She understood well enough to see that she'd be causing trouble for herself if she did anything but meet his expectation here. She would not look him in the eye when she let the thick fluid in her mouth finally slip down her throat.<br/><br/>"To be fair, Ser, I didn't joint your campaign with the hope of being fun for you. Just reliable, Ser." Shy said quietly. She had not stood, or moved at all from where he'd had her kneel. "Is it that you prefer men, Ser Silverum?" she asked, when she did not know what else to say to him. It seemed like a great irony to her, that she had in some way protected herself for so long by playing the part of a boy. Now, here she was facing a man's irreverent lust for the very caricature she'd thought to defend her chastity. Had she been too ambitious, thinking to become a knight in all of this charading, too? When she had been a small child, she'd once dropped a small almond sweet from her full hands, trying to reach for another candy. At that time, Will had told her smugly that she should learn not to extend her ambitions too far. At the time, she had argued that Will ought to dream a bit bigger. Now, she thought she might understand what he'd been chiding her for.<br/><br/>In all that self reflection, she hadn't considered that he might have taken offense to her question. It wasn't as if there weren't a few stray rumors about his disinterest in the pretty whores these days. Perhaps he'd believe she was questioning his manhood or mocking his arousal. It was neither, just an honest sort of despair for her own folly and a welling confusion for how she might preserve herself.