They called them "The Ladies from Hell" the bravest one was not carrying a weapon but a musical instrument. -- Knitnan
Revolution comes in many forms. A poisoned chalice. A coup detat. Violence in the streets. Quiet murder in between the sheets. This one began with an infant daughter, wailing in her mother's arms, and an urgent flight into the night.
Twenty women before her had borne that man daughters. And twenty women and their daughters had died the next day. Ralin risked both their lives in order to spare them. Still bleeding from the afterbirth. Still weak from her efforts, she ran. Away from the plush estates. Away from the lap of luxury. Deep into the realms where nobody would look twice at another hungry woman with an infant to feed.
All she had was her daughter, her night-dress, and her woodwind. She wasn't going to let him destroy her woodwind. She wasn't going to let him murder her or her unnamed daughter. And in less than three hours, she would stab a man to death with it.
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