Lana
Suddenly, the grip loosened.
Amarta pulled her hand back, as if snapping out of something deep—whether a nightmare or some mad spell I couldn't comprehend. She took a few steps back, her face pale, then...
She bowed.
"Forgive me... Forgive me..." she murmured quickly. "Your Grace... The Chosen One... Please, forgive me…"
I froze in place. "What?"
Amarta bowed again. Once. Twice. Three times. Deeper each time. Her voice trembled, yet held reverence.
"The Chosen One... The chosen human... I... I should've welcomed you more properly."
"What are you talking about?" I frowned, staring at her intently. "Amarta, you just nearly... and now you're worshiping me? Is this some kind of bad acting? Or are you actually insane?"
She didn't respond right away. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, then slowly, she raised her head and looked straight at me. But now, there was no hunger or cunning in her gaze. No intent. No threat.
Only… submission.
