Camilla rode the horse quietly through the back streets. She kept her dull brown cap pulled low over her face. She avoided the main roads and the busy markets. She moved like a shadow.

When she reached the high stone walls of the Benson estate, she did not go to the main gates. She rode around to the small, hidden side entrance near the stables. She slipped off the horse and quickly tied the leather reins to a wooden post. She left the horse for the stable boys to find later.

Camilla moved silently through the gardens. She stayed in the dark shadows of the tall green hedges. She was still wearing the dirty male clothing. Her loose grey tunic was stained with dirt and small drops of blood from the tavern fight.

She reached the thick bushes directly beneath her private bedroom balcony.

She knelt down in the dirt. She reached her hands deep into the green leaves and pulled out the tight bundle of dark green silk. It was the day gown she had hidden earlier.

Camilla worked very quickly. She took off the heavy leather boots. She took off the rough brown trousers and the dirty grey tunic. She pulled the dull cap off her head, letting her long, red curly hair fall freely down her back. She quickly slipped the beautiful, clean dark green gown over her head and smoothed out the fabric. She was Lady Camilla once again.

But she still had a problem. The bloody clothes and the bloody kitchen knife were lying on the grass. She could not bring them inside the mansion.

Camilla picked up a thick, broken piece of wood from the ground. She knelt behind the largest bush and began to dig. She dug a deep hole in the soft garden dirt.

She folded the tunic and the trousers. She placed them at the bottom of the hole. She threw the heavy leather boots and the brown cap on top. Finally, she dropped the sharp, blood-stained kitchen knife into the dirt.

She used her hands to push the soil back over the hole. She covered the evidence completely. She stood up and stepped on the dirt with her soft shoes, packing it down firmly so it looked perfectly normal.

Camilla wiped her dirty hands on the dark green fabric of her skirt, where the stains would not show.

She took a deep breath. She thought to herself as she turned to enter into the house.

"Dinner should be ready by now," Camilla planned in her mind. Her internal voice sounded very practical. "I’ll just sneak upstairs, eat whatever they bring to my room, disinfect my injuries, and go to straight to sleep."

She raised her arms above her head. She stretched her hands and her back in pure relief. Her muscles ached from dodging the heavy club and throwing the knife. The small scratch on her cheek stung slightly in the cool evening breeze. The bruise on her left arm throbbed.

"I’m so damn tired," Camilla whispered to herself.

But as she dropped her arms, a small, genuine smile touched her lips.

"But honestly," she admitted in her mind, "it has been a very long time since I felt this alive."

For the past week, she had been trapped in a boring bed, acting like a weak, crying victim. But today, she had used her real skills. She had fought. She had won. She had saved the female lead brother’s life. The rush of adrenaline was finally fading away, but the feeling of pure victory remained.

Camilla walked quietly through a side door and entered the mansion.

The stone hallways were lit by flickering candles. The house was very quiet. She walked softly, her shoes making no sound against the smooth marble floors.

She walked past the entrance of the grand foyer.

"Everyone should be preparing for dinner right now," she whispered to herself. She knew the cooks were busy in the kitchen, and the maids were busy setting the long dining tables. "I can just sneak my way inside and go straight up the back stairs."

She kept her head down and moved quickly toward the staircase.

Just then, a large hand suddenly grabbed her left shoulder.

Camilla did not think. Her assassin instincts kicked in instantly.

Before her conscious brain could even register who was touching her, her body reacted with terrifying speed.

She dropped her weight slightly to lower her center of gravity. She spun around violently, breaking the person’s grip on her shoulder. At the exact same moment, she raised her right hand like a claw.

She lunged forward. She grabbed the person directly by the throat.

She used the momentum of her spin to drive the person backward. She pushed them hard into a dark, recessed stone alcove in the hallway wall.

Thud!

The person’s broad back hit the hard stone wall heavily.

Camilla’s hand tightened fiercely on their grip. Her fingers pressed deeply into the soft flesh of their windpipe. She was ready to crush their throat completely. She raised her left hand, making a tight fist, prepared to strike them in the face.

She finally looked up to see her victim’s face in the dim candlelight.

Her eyes widened in absolute shock.

It was Damon.

The Tyrant General was pinned against the stone wall. His eyes were wide open, staring down at her. He was not looking at her with fear. He was looking at her with extreme, intense surprise. He had fought the greatest warriors in the kingdom, but he had never seen anyone move as fast as the small woman currently choking him.

Damon swallowed hard against her tight grip. He did not raise his hands to fight her off. He just looked at her.

Damon spoke. His deep voice was very strained and raspy by the sudden cut of his air supply.

"The lady is very skilled," Damon managed to say.

Camilla’s heart dropped into her stomach.

Panic exploded inside her mind. She was supposed to be a weak, fragile noblewoman.

Camilla let out a high, incredibly nervous chuckle. "Ha. Haha."