Careful, girl, or I'll send you back there now.
I'm allowed to have emotions, she argued back, You don't steal someone's life and mortality and force them into an eternity of slavehood without consulting them first.
Slavehood only as a technicality, Stare. You were doing well up until now, do not spoil it.
Well, she hissed, her eyes glued to the top of his head. You weren't here to … to tell the world is … force me to do this, be here and say these things. The only reason your reputation is still together is because of me.
Yes, and I thank you, and I find your loyalty touching and useful. You are useful to me, I will not let you leave my service or my side ever. Now stop glaring at me like that and return to proper decorum.
Proper decorum it's ass. But it might as well have been an order. Stare was dimly aware of a conversation now ongoing about if, then, the brothers should expect Stare to possibly conduct the meetings in future. Vitruvion was currently saying that yes, they should consider her his representative from now on, if such matters arose again. Certainly, right now, she hated him, and also of the stares that were now on her from those who were in shocked disbelief that one, she had saved their city and two, she was immortal - what now? Vitruvion was lucky that Stare's loyalty had grown to the point it had now. But then, if it had not, he would never had asked her to step forwards as his representative, or not stopped her in using his name as a rallying point for the supply train. It struck her just how she had changed in the last six or seven months, going from wretched slave who constantly said the wrong things deliberately, to steward who gave him a good reputation but always had new reasons to detest him. Most of her loyalty, she knew, grew from the fact that he was her god, and all else had grown from that. But loyalty did not mean that memories went away, and fresh feelings of anger.
“Miss?” came a soft, nervous whisper.
Stare looked over to see Desian of all people offering her a goblet of rich-smelling wine. Two goblets in fact. Stare grunted and grabbed both before automatically checking the metal with a glance of her eyes and passing over the more full and pristine one and holding it out to Vitruvion. Not skipping a single note and without breaking eye contact, the 'brother’ leant over to cup his hand around the goblet and take it from her. Then he paused a moment, in his speech, gestured for a brother to respond before he pointed at her, but did not look at her.
“Food,” he said quietly, in a non-suggestive, ordering manner.
Damn, she thought, realising her actions and his words. Damn this all.
Twisting back to Desian she forced her away around the room until she caught up with the serving girl. Desian gasped a little and looked honestly nervous - but then, Stare had attacked her earlier - before nodding.
“Can you please get some food,” she muttered. “He'll eat … grapes, cheese, olives, that sort of thing just now.”
