An Ambassador From Hernsford

[Stare]

some mature language and content.

[Stare]

“My name is Maester Rafael, and I believe …”

He was a middle aged man, with tanned skin that spoke of Fallien origin. Yet, he held himself with an uncertain style and finesse that did not quite revoke the desert country. Instead he seemed the business man, with a straight back, a sharp beard and a wrap of fabric bound over his head. A fine robe was dressed over his body in a cotton material and a rich, green colour. Two small dark eyes poked from large brows and a hint of brown hair beneath his turban. A small flicker of a smile appeared on his lips, as he extended his hand to her.

Uncertainty, standing at the doors to the vast mansion that was Vitruvion's base, Stare gave a small nod back. Carefully, she took Maester Rafael's hand and was thankful to high heaven that she had on her more fancy clothing. A white, chiffon and cotton tunic, with layers, and a silver cord that ran around the centre. A rare piece of jewelry hung from her neck as a single pearl on a thin chain.

“Stare, yes,” the kenku said quietly, her eyes meeting the man's who had helped to seal her personage fate. “Welcome to Beinost.’

Maester Rafael dropped his hand and swung it back behind him, with the smile on his face growing. In the background the stoney driveway of the mansion was glistening with its sandstone colours in glorious summer light. A carriage that spoke of being hired by its plain design and casually uniformed drivers and coachmen stood on it, mostly unpacked by now but with a single young woman amongst them. She was dressed plainly, and had her hair pulled back tight against her hair and sealed with pins.

“Shall I give you a tour of the house first, or would you like to freshen up first … sir?” She asked quietly to the man who had just travelled halfway across the ocean to meet them.

Maester Rafael watched her for a few seconds as his smile expanded before he gestured at her in a manner that reminded her a lot of Vitruvion. Great men who were alike got on apparently. “You may show me around this house of your master-” he cut himself off, and regarded her. “Of course, you do not call him that. It is private, yes?”

Stars blinked a few times and gave a tense tilt of her head behind her to ensure there was nobody behind her. Her jaw tightened before she nodded a little.

“Please follow me, Maester Rafael,” she twisted and gestured inwards to the house, sideways on to him.

The Maester looked at her for a while before nodding once and striding the last step up into the house. He passed through the double open doors, his eyes dancing with delight as he was faced with the glory that was Elssmith manor. Stare moved in behind him, but not before she looked back at the young woman at the carriage. Their eyes met, black kenku versus deep green human ones, and the woman smiled. Raising a hand she waved at her kindly, before continuing with her work.

“Stare, you said your name was?”

“Not my original one, Maester, but the one I have now.” She turned as she closed the door, finding the tanned man now facing her, the backdrop of pillars and glorious ornaments framing him well.

[Stare]

“Ah, of course. Avis Tsukaka, I remember,” he nodded.

Brow rising with surprise at the fact he did, Stare paused a moment before lifting her open hand to the front room. “The front room,” she said quietly, “Which has been cleared for your personal use.”

Rafael moved closer to the room and peered into it, eyes moving over the suitably sized space with a curious eye. He nodded as he moved back. “It will do.”

For a moment the kenku paused, then turned, and walked him through to the blue room, the smaller reception room that she personally used for administration and meetings with the managers of Vitruvion's various businesses. It was a fine, small space with sofas and a small armchair, perfectly sized for her. The walls were panelled and painted in a soft sky azure.

“Very good,” Rafael commented. “Now, tell me how your arrangement with your master works. You are …”

Stare sucked in her breath as silently as she could as she showed the court official and private merchant into the drawing room. It was a little used reception room that adjoined right onto the dining hall. “I am paid a salary, Maester Rafael, for the work that I do. This is the drawing room, used for larger gatherings that we have here.”

“Ah. That is extremely interesting. He does not need to, but he does,” the foreigner said as his eyes glanced around the room. Stare lead him straight in to the dining area, where the six portraits of Vitruvion at the various stages in his life glared down at them like ancestors.

Stare pressed her beak halves together in a thin line of irritation. She knew this was going to be thrown at her - the legal ties between her and Vitruvion. Part of Maester Rafael coming here was going to result in questions being asked. Yet still, though prepared for them, she felt ill.

“Dining room,” she grunted.

“I see. Yes, he mentioned your arrangement was unorthodox.”

“Library,” she gestured, leading him into the long room, every wall lined with books. Her eyes caught movement out of the side of her eye. Quietly she neared the Maester and spoke in a low voice. “Maester Rafael, our arrangement is that it is a private matter. Between myself and Sir Elssmith. I would respectfully ask that you be careful who is around when we speak of it.”

The Maester glanced over his shoulder and true enough Agatha, housemaid, was currently outside the door. She curtseyed as she saw Rafael, then continued with her task of cleaning.

Turning back to Stare he fixed her with an intrigued eye. A smile flickered onto his face. “If that is your arrangement then so be it. I am in a different culture of my own, where the sort of relationship is more common.”

“And Sir Elssmith's private study is through there,” she nodded at the double doors at the end of the library. “Would you care to see your sleeping arrangements?”

The foreigner kept his smile on and nodded elegantly. “If you would care to show me.”

With a small hesitation to her step, the kenku led the merchant and official up the stairs around around the balcony, to the room that last Nevin had stayed in, only a few days previous. It had been done out in more sumptuous dressings now, with fine warm blankets and many pillows. Throws and fabric hangings with rich colours, the type of decoration that Stare had been told was common in Hernsford, filled the room.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” she gestured out again. “Sir Elssmith's room is beside it.” She nodded at doors set into the back wall. “There are wardrobes and cabinets there for your use, and if you need anything then …” she spread a finger out to a bell on a fine silver tray. A small cultural item, she had been told, from Hernsford, that was used to summon a servant. Or slave, in their case.

The Maester paused and inclined his head. “Thank you, Stare.”

She gave a short curtsey, then rose.

“Is there anything else you need, Maester?”

“Nothing that I am sure Guilia could not find.

Stare paused, connecting the woman that she had seen outside with the name and offered her a small greeting. With Rafael's title and disposition Stare concluded that the young woman must be his accompanying slave for this journey. With a small nod she took a step back.

“Then I will leave you to settle, Maester,” she said politely, and turned to leave.

She felt his eyes watch her with rising intrigue, but she ignored him. As he said nothing else she took it as her leave to go and thus she went out of the room, closing the door partly behind her.

[Stare]

“Hello?”

A very polite, knock on wood.

Stare looked up in alarm, eyes opening wide as was caught off guard. She sat in the armchair - 'her’ armchair - in the blue room, a large book open on her lap. In her hand she held a quill, and beside her on a coffee table was spread various documents and papers.

By the door stood the brown haired, green eyed young woman. There was a soft smile on her lips and a dance of joy in her eyes. Still her fist lay on the open door from where she had knocked. A very quick glimpse into the aura told her this was a human, at the age of twenty three.

Young for a human.

“Hi …” Stare said slowly, her hand slowly moving to rest the quill on the page. “You came with Maester Rafael right?”

The smile grew as the woman stood straighter, moving her hands to be in front of her. Giving a small wave she took the introduction as an invitation came in and took a couple of slow steps forwards as she spoke further.

“I am Guilia,” Guilia said, making the name sound beautiful and wondrous. She spoke in a fine, exotic tone that whispered of sandy beaches and wild seas. Stare could see now that she had the same tanned skin as Rafael. “And you must be Stare, right?”

Taking a moment to slowly move pen from the book - it was clear she was not going to be able to finish her objective of doing the house accounts just now - Stare nodded slightly.

“Yes … I am.”

Guilia’s eyes flickered to the book and down. “Ah, sorry, am I disturbing your work?”

The kenku shrugged a little. “If you are willing to wait five minutes I was almost done.”

Guilia nodded almost right away and shifted to stand near the centre of the room. Her smile by now was miraculous. “Of course!”

And she cupped her hands in front of her and went absolutely silent. Stare raised her brow and watched her for a moment, intrigued in the way that the woman almost went entirely still before she nodded at a sofa. “You can sit down if you want?”

With surprise Guilia looked from the chair to Stare. “Is - is that allowed?”

Stare blinked and gestured at it again before opening her book fully up and picking up the pen. “Of course. It's just a sofa.”

“But does it not belong to your master? Does he not-”

The kenku couldn't help but smile in her eyes. “Guilia, this is a Tuesday. On a Tuesday this room is mine for all business and related matters. You are very welcome to sit or stand, especially in here, right now, as you like.”

Guilia, for a moment, seemed lost in indecision, but then she nodded, grinning. Carefully, she sat, folding her hands on her lap and ensuring her dress was still in perfect condition. Stare nodded once to her again, before dipping the end of the pen in ink. Then, very delicately, she began scribing the remainder of the accounts.

[Stare]

“Okay.”

Done, she folded the book closed, and began to gather the various sheets into a pile. They neatly came together with a few taps of the ends on the wooden table. Then, opening the front cover of the book only Stare threw the sheets inside, and ended her accounting for the day. Setting the tome aside, she let out a satisfied sigh before brushing her tunic down, pausing, and finally looking at Guilia.

Who was still sitting as she had left her, ten minutes prior.

“I'm assuming Maester Rafael does not need you then right now.”

“Oh,” Guilia shook her head. “No, he is resting right now, and said just to go to alert him to dinner.”

Dinner. Stare paused as she remembered she would not eat in the dining room tonight on account of Vitruvion's guest. “Ah right,” she nodded slowly. “And have you worked for him long?”

“My mother bore me when she herself was in Maester Rafael's possession,” she said with a brightness to her voice. “And I was then born under his roof, thus …”

The kenku blinked, trying to understand. “Thus …?”

“Thus, naturally, I am his.”

His. As in his possession also. Stare stopped as she realised this was part of the slavery tradition of Hernsford. Any slave who gave birth would have their child then declared the immediate possession of whoever's owner the mother was. Perhaps even the father. It took Stare a moment to remember exactly how Guilia was related to Rafael and she sucked in her breath as she was reminded of who they were …

“Oh right, of course,” Stare spoke fast. “Apologies.”

Guilia looked confused. “You … did not know that?”

The kenku shook her head.

“But how not?” came the question, incredulously spoken, “That is one of the basic rules of slavehood. Simple, in fact, everyone knows that!”

Stare blinked, suddenly taken aback. “Guilia, I'm sorry I offended you but I'm not of Hernsford. We don't have sl- that here, at all. Only with the exception of your city’s international laws. We-”

“But you are one,” said Guilia, confused and now frowning. “You are a slave.”

Silence fell in the room. Never before had anyone told her the truth of her identity so flatly and truthfully. The kenku stared at the human with dark, passionate eyes, and her breathing became hard. For a moment, all there was, was heartbeats, before Stare broke eye contact and threw her eyes to the door, hoping, beyond anything, that nobody heard.

Instead, someone was standing right in the doorway. Right there, obvious and glorious, dressed in dark, blue tailcoat and breeches. His fine black boots were made of the best leather, and he had in his hand a dark wood cane. Casually, he was leaning against the open doorway with his long white hair loose and trailing over a shoulder. His piercing blue eyes watched her carefully, gently, and on his lips was the faintest hint of a smile.

[Stare]

“To answer your question, Guilia,” Vitruvion said, in a voice like silk, but his eyes never moving from Stare's, “Stare does not know, would not know, the traditions of Hernsford. For although, as you say, she is a slave, she is of our continent, where such things are not practised, unless under exceptional circumstances.”

Guilia was stunned for a moment, as she gazed at the handsome man. Then, with a gasp the woman got to her feet and descended into the lowest curtsey she could create. Vitruvion's smile grew and he finally drew his gaze from Stare to acknowledge Guilia.

There is no one nearby, he said with purpose into her mind. Nobody heard her say anything. Or I. I have established a silence enchantment around us.

Thank you, she sighed with honest relief.
“Sir Elssmith,” Guilia lowered her eyes. “I apologise, sir, for sitting and not asking. Stare explained that-”

“Stare explained everything correctly,” Vitruvion said, pushing himself off the doorpost. He switched his cane from one hand to the other and started to walk into the room. “You may sit where you wish here, so long as it is not in the way of my business, your own master's business, or you should really be doing something else.” He came to a slow half in front of Stare, his eyes now fixed on Guilia.

The human woman was stunned. She glanced at Stare, who had her hands curled into light fists and gripping part of her extraordinary smart tunic.

“Yes sir, thank you sir,” Guilia murmured.

“Hmm,” Vitruvion nodded, and then held out his hand to Stare, wordless. It took her a moment to figure out what he wanted, for his eyes were still not on her and he said nothing.

Slowly she took the huge book from the table and held it up to him, slipping it into his hand. She felt the weight being taken as his fingers slipped around the spine, each one curling like a trap, seizing the massive thing with the literal strength of a god.

“Guilia, Stare will show you, in a moment, the rooms downstairs. Right now, if you could, please give us a moment.”

The Hernsfordan swallowed, but then nodded and curtseyed again. Glancing once at Stare she gave her a small apologetic smile before heading out. Vitruvion watched her, and Stare saw the smallest flicker of a movement from a finger. The door creaked and swung closed of its own accord after her.
It was only then that he took a small breath and moved his eyes over to Stare. She was caught back underneath his powerful, cool gaze.

“I trust Rafael … you settled him in adequately?”

The kenku gave a small shrug. “As best as I could. Rooms were all ready when he came.”

He nodded slightly, “I will have Rafael have a word with Guilia about talking of your enslavement out loud.”

Stare flinched with the word and tore her eyes away. There was a silence.

“Well?” He said, as if asked for something.

“Thank you,” she muttered. “But I hate this entire situation. Having it thrown in my face over and over again.”

He blinked for a moment as all the emotions - disgust, stress, pressure, even fear - flowed through her and burned into his consciousness from her. There was a small hesitation, and he took a long breath before moving his cane and the book to one arm. Stretching forwards his now free hand he very gently stroked a long line up the nose ridge of her beak, up onto the feathers and the crown of her head. Smoothly, he pulled the fingers around the side of her face, around by the curve of her jaw, as she sat there, still and stunned, eyes huge, not sure what he was doing. Steadily, his eyes held hers, and he did not flinch until he finished with a single finger beneath her beak.

“I know exactly how much you hate it, Stare,” he whispered, “I feel it daily from you, but it means that there is another barrier from anyone ever taking you away from me. Nobody now can ever pressure you into anything without referring to me. It is your last and bear safeguard from harm, and the way that, if you are ever lost beyond my control, then there is at least one last thing I can do.” Slowly he removed his hand. “You will need to bear these few weeks, and then our lives will go back to normal.”

[Stare]

“So you sleep upstairs?”

They were in the servant's hall, where a long table with simple chairs stood. It was a room just off from the sizeable kitchen, where Mrs Deerling the cook and Druss the butler reigned supreme as lord and lady of the table. This night, however, Druss had vacated his seat to allow Stare to sit at the end, as was practise when she wasn't dining with Vitruvion. Instead now he sat to the side and Guilia opposite him, with the three of them gathered into a small conversation of their own.

“Miss Stare acts as Sir Elssmith's business manager and steward when he is out of town, Miss Guilia,” Druss replied, the small mouse-like man smiling appropriately.

Guilia's eyebrows went high. She opened her mouth as if to start saying something, then stopped, remembering what she had been told about the situation of the relationship between master and steward in this household. Slowly she closed her mouth and nodded.

“When Sir Elssmith first met me I came to live here more or less to live as a guest of the house,” Stare said quietly, cutting up the flesh of the animal on her plate. “Once I begun under his employ formally he made the decision for me to have my own formal room.”

“The house is so big and Sir Elssmith just a single man,” Druss agreed. “Though you serve as housekeeper, you - Miss Stare,” he looked at Guilia, “Miss Stare is his representative in many aspects.”

“What if he required the room for a wife?” Guilia asked, “Or a family?”

Awkward silence fell for a moment. The question of Vitruvion's potential marriage one day had always been a point of discussion, and for some in the household, a point of contention.

“Well, Miss Mer would lose her room first, of course,” Druss said quickly.

“... Mer?”

Stare grunted, “My assistant. She is also of noble birth, so it is right she be treated well.”

“But she would lose her room first,” the butler reiterated.

The kenku sighed, “If Sir Elssmith ever got married, had a family, invited someone into his household who needed the room more than I, then I would move down here, of course.” She stabbed a sprout. “At the moment that is not the situation, but as soon as it happens, I'll move when he asks.”

Druss nodded, and Guilia blinked, knowing she had said something that that had caused some tension. She bit her lip, and looked between the butler and Stare before smiling.

“I see.”

Stare ate, and was subject to a moment of fascination from the Hernsfordan, but then Guilia smiled more.

“So you serve really as Sir Elssmith's right hand woman.”

Stare immediately shook her head. “Not right hand. That is Raevin … He's an elf, currently working in Corone at the brewery.”

Once who he was was explained Guilia nodded. “I see. So you are his left hand?”

The kenku was caught off guard by the expression, and furrowed her brow slightly, trying to think about it. A short silence fell, interrupted by Druss.

“That … Would be rather accurate.” He grinned. “Yes. Left hand.”

[Stare]

It was much later. Dinner had passed, and Guilia had disappeared already, gone for a short while to see to Rafael's needs. Stare found herself without anything to do, and the kitchen was slightly struggling with the extra organisation of the more formal meal than normal. Thus, after Stare heard enough whispers and heightened shouts she grunted and heaved herself to her feet.

Walking through to the kitchen she found a mound of dishes - far more than if Vitruvion was just eating himself. The kitchen was set out into two sections of a main room, then a small intense coming area around a corner, hidden right now from view. Currently all of the kitchen staff however - Mrs Deerling, the cook, Charlie, the kitchen maid and Timmin, the pot boy - along with Druss were hurriedly arguing about the workload and how they were going to handle organisation across the coming few days.

“I can't possibly be expected to cook three full luxury meals a day!” Mrs Deerling was saying, “The visitor - he barely liked anything. Charlie had to come down three times - three! - for personalised requests.”

“He's awfully fussy,” the boy said, scratching his arse, “He didn't want that gravy, then he wanted to know if we had grainy bread. Then it wasn't the right wine.”

“We either need more staff or need to cook less,” Charlie grunted, her arms folded across her chest. “It's only the first day but it's going to get out of hand.”

Stare let out a sigh and stayed in the doorway before a full minute passed, and they did not notice her. Still, they spoke over each other and Druss mumbled, trying to calm them down. But …

Nothing. Rolling her eyes she gathered up what short sleeves she had and headed right for the washing tub. It was already running with water, and had a large pile of items in it, but an amount that wouldn't be useful for any sort of cleaning of them. Without any room on the worktops nearby she ended up shoving them on the floor with a loud clatter.

Quiet fell as the noise finally caught the attention of the arguing staff.

“Druss, I suggest you send Agathe or Kira over to Lady Heysan’s place and see if we can borrow one of their staff as extra until the Maester leaves.”

There was a pause before:

“Miss Stare!” The butler gasped, “You shouldn't be doing that!”

Stare grunted and grabbed her first plate and scrubbing brush. “Charlie, if you could dry, Timmin organise the things needed to be washed. Mrs Deerling, why don't you take time to write a more simple menu for the next few days, using what ingredients you have.”

Voices began again.

“But Miss …”

“Miss Stare, you honestly shouldn't-”

“No way, my menu is certainly fine as it is-”

“For Ansaldo's balls sake!” Stare shouted, twisting around to glare to each of them. “You arguing is simply making the problem worse. Now, my suggestions are just those - suggestions, but if you want to get anything done over the next few days then I would suggest helping me. Please.”

Surely, but not responding to any particular emotion just yet, she stared from one to the other. They looked back at her in wordlessness … then to each other. Back to her again. Then to one another. It took Druss to break the cycle and nod to Stare.

“I will take the fastest horse I can, Miss.”

On that Timmin and Charlie sucked in their breath and moved quickly to respond to Stare's instruction. It left Mrs Deerling to watch all with uncertainty.

But the kitchen was already in full motion. With a sigh the cook grabbed her meal planner book from the worktop and turned to slunk back into the mess.

The kitchen was cleaned that night and all the other times. With help from Marjie, a loaned kitchen girl from Lady Heysan's - aka Vitruvion's sister Ventrua - they had no more trouble for the rest of the time Maester Rafael was there. Stare was able to continue with her normal duties, and called upon by Druss to settle any further disputes.

[Stare]

By the time she headed to bed, Stare was exhausted. She had been up for over eighteen hours by then and had almost been non stop. Now with stress lines likely appearing under her feathers - but that was part of the advantage of being a kenku. One could usually hide their true emotions. Right now though her body language spoke of her state of mind as she dragged her weary behind up the stairs. She yawned, glancing briefly down at her hand trailing on the bannister, before she got to the top of the stairs. Ready to fall right into the covers of her bed and sleep until someone woke her - probably Agathe - Stare walked over to her door. Her hand curled around the hand the handle and began to turn it.

Slowly, she opened it, another huge yawn starting.

Only thing was, there was someone on her bed.

“GAH!” she freaked, eyes wide.

However it was the one person who claimed every right to be there, leaning back against the headboard. Legs drawn up he was half reclining and reading, with his long pale fingers wrapped around the pages with care.

He did not even look up at her fright, but only turned the page with a soft scraping noise.

Stare let out a sigh after the scare and hurriedly stepped in before closing the door behind her. Now she was alert again, but her body still felt weary. Shockingly so. She took in a deep breath, then another before she could think of what to do or say.

“It's - it's late,” she eventually stuttered.

“Observant of you,” he replied in a dull voice, eyes drifting down the page.

Still she stood there at the door, uncertain as to what to do. She rubbed her arm, staring at him as he sat so casually.

“I'm absolutely shattered,” she said quickly. “I need to sleep.”

“Then do so,” he shrugged, his hand flipping another page.

She blinked a fair few times. “What - what are you doing here?”

“As you told Guilia at dinner, this is my house. Therefore I can go where I please in it.”

Still he did not move, and remained incredibly non-chalant. The kenku furrowed her brow, flexed her fists. It was something she could not argue with, but-

“Why are you here?” she asked suddenly. “You usually only come in a night when there has been something untoward, damning, tense or otherwise sensitive during the day. Did you - did you argue with Maester Rafael?”

There was a horrid pause, one in which there was an atmosphere of pressure, unease on her part and a slow realisation of irritation.

Slowly his eyes finally moved, roaming across the room, dragging their unwilling selves. She could see the muscles in his jaw tighten, the slow sharp breath being taken in. Then his blue, piercing glare came to her and she suddenly understood that he definitely was not in the mood.

In fact, he was quite, quite furious about something. In a way that had not as yet been expressed by his voice, but one he was holding in. Which meant even worse. The absolute of all dark emotional states.

[Stare]

Shit, she realised.

And she froze, eyes huge, breath sparing. She drew her beak shut as her heart began to pound and she took a minute step back. His anger was plain - dire, almost cruel and for a moment she was Avis in the Hollow again, fearing for her life of this god who threatened to strike her down.

A slow grunt formed in his throat.

“Better,” he said, his voice still not confessing his mood. “Now. Shut up, and go over there,” he nodded to the window seat. “You can sleep on it rather than here.”

It made her stare, beak opening. “I … what? Why?”

“I am clearly too lenient on you, Stare,” he hissed, his tone switching unexpectedly to match his mood. “You should respect me more. I'm not just your master, I'm your-”

“God. Yes I know,” she answered, eyes large and pressing herself against the wall. When he was this angry before he has let it out physically on her. But that had been in the Hollow, in a world where he did that anyway. Now that she was here, and he was too, rather than with Blaze or Sable, she was dangerously close to being subject to something she never wanted to experience again.

That he had promised she would never be subject to him by his hand. He had never broken a promise that he had given her yet, but that still did not mean that he would not punish her in other ways.

Simply, now, she had to try to avoid angering him more.

“Go and sleep,” he ordered, pointing back over to the bay window seat. It was cushioned, by her hands, and thus gave some comfort, yet not as much as the bed.

Stare swallowed, remembering the last time she had tried to go against a direct order. He had reminded her of the pain of a slap and sent her away from him, never revealing what was actually on his mind.

“Stare?!”

What was wrong with him? By the look in his eyes, however, he would not actually tell her. He had likely come here, expecting her to be more quiet, and not tired or grumpy from that exhaustion. He had likely wanted something to quell his bad mood and her companionship could be described as more comforting than a night by himself, fuming in his own fury.

But she had made it worse by her terrible choice of words, and now he was deeming her not even worthy of the bed.

“Are you even listening to me?” he spat.

Sucking in her breath Stare lowered her eyes and turned away from the wall. Knowing there was very little choice in the matter at all she hurried over to her cabinet where she stripped herself of all her weapons. Pausing, she considered taking off her fine tunic, then realised she might need it for the next day and so dragged it off over her head. Now in her underclothes she grabbed a softer tunic and pulled it on before glancing over the bed and the blanket that was there over the duvet other than that there was only the throw on the bay window seat.

“And that will do,” he growled, grabbing the blanket himself and pulling it over his legs.

Stare flinched, feeling the results of emotional manipulation. But this was Vitruvion, the old one whom she had first met. This was he, the raging fury and the anger that lived. This was the man so possessive in temperament that he had literally bought her.

Swallowing, she shut up and scrambled over to the window seat. Picking up the throw she climbed onto the window seat and curled up on it, tight and slightly shaking. She pulled up the throw to her beak and hunkered down on the simply padded sofa-like thing and curled into a tight foetal position.

“Hmm,” came the more satisfied grunt. So different was he than in the blue room. But that was Vitruvion, two sided, subject to mood changes. Thankful for her, yet irritated by her.

Never feeling love for her like Nevin had said, when he saw their relationship in his mind.

“Good night, Stare,” he said, calmer.

“Good night, my lord,” she whispered.