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Triss didn’t mind the root digging into her back or the pine needles tangling in her hair as she squirmed until Philippa's clever fingers. She had been the daughter of respectable merchants before Aretuza and then the Temerian court; the damp of the woods was a novelty that only heightened the thrill of Philippa's attention.
Alone, there was nothing, no one more important than Triss. But it was a stolen moment. She dragged her thumb over Philippa's sharp cheekbones, earning her a smile. A smile that would have to sustain her while she picked twigs out of her hair, alone.