[She embraces him tightly, trusting, and gives her head a little shake into his shoulder.]

I had-- grand visions of it, [she admits, face growing hot with the memory of her foolishness,] when I went to the Freemen. My Jacques was no fighter, so perhaps I would be, for him.

[Has she mentioned Jacques to Bastien? If not, might as well: she owes him the truth about one thing, at least.]

But though free, they were still nobility. I was set at once to cleaning up their messes.

[Pulling out of the hug, she perches back against the desk, eyes downcast and weary.]

...it's what we do, isn't it. They didn't even ask what I was good at.