February 2016 RSC
I’Yulna
Old Market; RhyDin
They sat together at the table beneath the willow tree.
“I can’t believe it didn’t work.”
This was it. She had been backed into a corner. Her plan had failed. No emboldened mob in Faerie was going to rise up against her cousin and demand her return. Ishmerai had confirmed it. All her other problems dissipated in the face of this one.
“They fear her and Llyr more than they love you, Mira.”
“Even if I came myself? They will not rise to my cause?”
“No.”
“I gave you a job to do, Ishmerai! How could you fail me in this?”
“You gave me very little time, Mira.” He shot back impatiently. “They talk, yes, and there have been a few demonstrations but everything has been brutally squashed. This is as far as it will go. They will not be spurred on to further action. Not the action you require. Not yet. After a few more years of such oppression, perhaps. But as things stand now? No.” He shook his head firmly. “It will not happen.”
They couldn’t wait any longer. In the interim, some no one looking to make extra coin would kill The Empress on the streets of the city she loved. There had already been several attempts, and it was just a matter of time before one succeeded. There would be no way to trace it back to Muirenn. It wouldn’t even matter at that point.
She would win and Jewell would die. End of story.
“This will never end, Mira. As long as you are alive, you are a threat to the legitimacy of her throne. All we have managed to do is make her scared, so scared that she will raise the stakes even higher if need be to get rid of you.”
The Empress thought of all the people she loved and how each and every one of them could be used against her. It made her throat feel tight. Vulnerable. So so very vulnerable. How had she let this happen? She couldn’t protect herself or her friends. “Fine. Then I will end it. We will go to the official coronation at midsummer and I will end it there.”
He sighed. They had covered this ground many times. “How will you do that? If you would just let me--”
“No!” she tried to cut him off.
“Mira, please. Listen to me. We have tried your plan. It was a valiant effort, but it has failed and I will not stand by and watch them kill you as you try to bring her down on your own. I will not. Taking her on yourself without your magic is an act of desperation that leads only to your death. She is too strong.” She glared at him. “Please, let me do this for you, for the love that I bear you.”
Her expression softened at that. She asked so much of him, and rarely did he request anything in return. Not even her affection. She would not deny him now. “Fine.” His sudden smile was her reward, and it was a struggle for her not to return it. “I will allow you to do this one thing for me, Ishmerai. Although you must realize how much it pains me to say so.”
She suddenly bridged the space between them, leaning over and looping her arms loosely around him, her face buried against his side. “They have taken so much from me, please do not let them take you as well.”
Days of the Phoenix
Moderators: Bailey Raptis, JewellRavenlock
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JewellRavenlock
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JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
Temple of the Divine Mother
Old Temple District; RhyDin
She tried to sit up, but cool hands pushed her back onto the iron slab. “Worry not, m’lady. We do not wish you harm. It must be made of iron otherwise your body will resist the procedure and it will not work.”
Despite the reassurances, she was worried. Very worried. It wasn’t too late. She could still turn and run. She could grab the contract back from them, tear it to pieces, forget any of this had ever happened.
She could let Ishmerai kill Muirenn just like she had promised.
Jewell forced herself to settle back onto the icy surface, the thin fabric of the shift they had given her doing little to protect her from the iron.
It burned.
Her pulse raced wildly as acolytes surrounded her, assisting the priest in restraining her. One, two, three. Three leather straps for each of her limbs, secured so tightly they bruised her skin.
Bile tickled the back of her throat. She was underground. She was underground and they were strapping her down, trapping her here. Grey eyes cast wildly about her, looking for escape while her limbs strained against the tightly fastened bonds.
She was going to scream.
“Hold still now, m’lady. It will all be over soon, and you will be whole once more. Whole and beautiful.” Shivers ran across her skin. The Vessel had been waiting for her when she entered the temple again. He had been expecting her.
He had known she would come.
The priest’s clammy fingers pressed into her face and the cloying, musty smell of his hand threatened to choke her as she tried to take deep, steadying breaths through her nose. This was all too familiar. In Faerie, everyone had been there to watch. They had tied her hands with rope. Then they tore the life and heart right out of her.
The Vessel began to chant. Soon, the acolytes around the room joined him, their voices staggered and blending together into an endless stream. Time slowed to a crawl and a blur. The chanting devoured her thoughts and sanity, filling her mind as it filled the room.
Just when it seemed like nothing else was going to happen, the oil lamps began to flicker wildly and an ember kindled to life in her chest. It grew, each repetition of the chant fanning the flames until they were licking against her lungs, then her heart. It burned her from the inside out. It swelled and swelled until it cracked against her ribs and finally tore free of her skin with a shattering scream.
Jewell’s back arched painfully off the table, her body lifted up by the power that had been trapped within her for so long as it forced its way out.
She was unbounded.
Temple of the Divine Mother
Old Temple District; RhyDin
She tried to sit up, but cool hands pushed her back onto the iron slab. “Worry not, m’lady. We do not wish you harm. It must be made of iron otherwise your body will resist the procedure and it will not work.”
Despite the reassurances, she was worried. Very worried. It wasn’t too late. She could still turn and run. She could grab the contract back from them, tear it to pieces, forget any of this had ever happened.
She could let Ishmerai kill Muirenn just like she had promised.
Jewell forced herself to settle back onto the icy surface, the thin fabric of the shift they had given her doing little to protect her from the iron.
It burned.
Her pulse raced wildly as acolytes surrounded her, assisting the priest in restraining her. One, two, three. Three leather straps for each of her limbs, secured so tightly they bruised her skin.
Bile tickled the back of her throat. She was underground. She was underground and they were strapping her down, trapping her here. Grey eyes cast wildly about her, looking for escape while her limbs strained against the tightly fastened bonds.
She was going to scream.
“Hold still now, m’lady. It will all be over soon, and you will be whole once more. Whole and beautiful.” Shivers ran across her skin. The Vessel had been waiting for her when she entered the temple again. He had been expecting her.
He had known she would come.
The priest’s clammy fingers pressed into her face and the cloying, musty smell of his hand threatened to choke her as she tried to take deep, steadying breaths through her nose. This was all too familiar. In Faerie, everyone had been there to watch. They had tied her hands with rope. Then they tore the life and heart right out of her.
The Vessel began to chant. Soon, the acolytes around the room joined him, their voices staggered and blending together into an endless stream. Time slowed to a crawl and a blur. The chanting devoured her thoughts and sanity, filling her mind as it filled the room.
Just when it seemed like nothing else was going to happen, the oil lamps began to flicker wildly and an ember kindled to life in her chest. It grew, each repetition of the chant fanning the flames until they were licking against her lungs, then her heart. It burned her from the inside out. It swelled and swelled until it cracked against her ribs and finally tore free of her skin with a shattering scream.
Jewell’s back arched painfully off the table, her body lifted up by the power that had been trapped within her for so long as it forced its way out.
She was unbounded.
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JewellRavenlock
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2014 RSC
Dr. Helen Bronner's Office
New Haven District; RhyDin
“People keep saying that there’s something different about me since I came back. They say that there’s something a little off; or that something is missing; that there’s something wrong in my ‘brainpan’.” Jewell smiled a little at that last one. Only one person she knew used that term. “They’re happy to have me with them, but they don’t think I’m the same as I was.”
“Are you?”
“Of course not.” Her tone dropped to something more contemplative and quiet as she toyed with a piece of string hanging loose from the hem of her dress. “I passed through the fire. I’m nothing more than a pale shade of my former self.
“What most people don’t understand is--” she paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. “The years since I’ve had my magic taken away have been the slowest torture. It would have been kinder for the Faerie Court to kill me, but Faeries really aren’t known for their kindness, are they?” She smirked bitterly. “No, they wanted me to suffer.
“So I have. I have suffered every moment of every day.
“Just saying that my magic has been bound away is far too simplistic of an explanation for the trauma they put me through. It ignores the very simple fact that I do not have magic to lock away.
“I am magic.”
Helen Bronner frowned. “Then what did they--”
“They didn’t just take away some handy skill I’ve been taught. They locked away a vital piece of ME!” Jewell tapped on her sternum. “Something integral to me is missing. It’s like… a limb was suddenly cut off. No no. Not even cut off. It’s like they just ripped it away from me.
“I’m always reaching for it. I’m always reaching for my magic, only it’s not there. I’ve been devoid of a sense beyond the primary five. I’ve been cut off from the greater part of myself. And without it? I feel dull. When I lost it, the world became gray and dark. It’s colorless now.
“And I am empty.”
Dr. Helen Bronner's Office
New Haven District; RhyDin
“People keep saying that there’s something different about me since I came back. They say that there’s something a little off; or that something is missing; that there’s something wrong in my ‘brainpan’.” Jewell smiled a little at that last one. Only one person she knew used that term. “They’re happy to have me with them, but they don’t think I’m the same as I was.”
“Are you?”
“Of course not.” Her tone dropped to something more contemplative and quiet as she toyed with a piece of string hanging loose from the hem of her dress. “I passed through the fire. I’m nothing more than a pale shade of my former self.
“What most people don’t understand is--” she paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. “The years since I’ve had my magic taken away have been the slowest torture. It would have been kinder for the Faerie Court to kill me, but Faeries really aren’t known for their kindness, are they?” She smirked bitterly. “No, they wanted me to suffer.
“So I have. I have suffered every moment of every day.
“Just saying that my magic has been bound away is far too simplistic of an explanation for the trauma they put me through. It ignores the very simple fact that I do not have magic to lock away.
“I am magic.”
Helen Bronner frowned. “Then what did they--”
“They didn’t just take away some handy skill I’ve been taught. They locked away a vital piece of ME!” Jewell tapped on her sternum. “Something integral to me is missing. It’s like… a limb was suddenly cut off. No no. Not even cut off. It’s like they just ripped it away from me.
“I’m always reaching for it. I’m always reaching for my magic, only it’s not there. I’ve been devoid of a sense beyond the primary five. I’ve been cut off from the greater part of myself. And without it? I feel dull. When I lost it, the world became gray and dark. It’s colorless now.
“And I am empty.”
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JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
Temple of the Divine Mother
Old Temple District; RhyDin
When Jewell opened her eyes in the dim light of the Temple of the Divine Mother, she was whole once more.
She blinked, groggy, and ran her tongue across her lips, trying to generate enough saliva to soothe her scratchy, dry throat. The presence of the iron was like a wet blanket: it made her eyelids heavy, her thoughts foggy, and her mouth taste like death. But lurking just past that was a world full of color and life.
Jewell could hear the water for the first time in years.
It was pounding against the cobblestones outside the temple. It was sitting in a cistern somewhere off to her left. It was trickling down her face in tears of joy. She could trace the path of each and every one as they fell faster and faster, dropping to the iron table beneath her.
Jewell woke up to a world that was alive to her once more.
Joy and pure elation stirred her heart. She wanted to get up. She had to move, dance, sing! She attempted to rise, but leather restraints held her tightly captive. She made a noise of protest and began to struggle against them. She needed to feel the water without the oppressive presence of the iron. She needed to hold it in her hand, make it twirl in the air, turn it into a million icy crystals, and make it rain down in soft snowflakes.
“Ah, our lady awakens!” A voice somewhere behind her murmured quietly, pleased.
She tried to turn her head, but she could not see him. “Unbind me!” The Empress commanded roughly as she struggled even harder against the restraints.
“Would that I could, my lady.”
Her stomach twisted in knots as the joy from moments ago dissipated quickly. The voice had moved closer, but he remained out of sight.
“You see, there is still the matter of our contract to conclude. Before we can even think about letting you go, we first need to see what you can do.” Suddenly, his hand brushed the hair back from her face, sweeping it behind her ear.
She froze.
The Vessel’s cracked lips were up against the curve of her ear, whispering: “Eilya Fitae Amaavian.”
Temple of the Divine Mother
Old Temple District; RhyDin
When Jewell opened her eyes in the dim light of the Temple of the Divine Mother, she was whole once more.
She blinked, groggy, and ran her tongue across her lips, trying to generate enough saliva to soothe her scratchy, dry throat. The presence of the iron was like a wet blanket: it made her eyelids heavy, her thoughts foggy, and her mouth taste like death. But lurking just past that was a world full of color and life.
Jewell could hear the water for the first time in years.
It was pounding against the cobblestones outside the temple. It was sitting in a cistern somewhere off to her left. It was trickling down her face in tears of joy. She could trace the path of each and every one as they fell faster and faster, dropping to the iron table beneath her.
Jewell woke up to a world that was alive to her once more.
Joy and pure elation stirred her heart. She wanted to get up. She had to move, dance, sing! She attempted to rise, but leather restraints held her tightly captive. She made a noise of protest and began to struggle against them. She needed to feel the water without the oppressive presence of the iron. She needed to hold it in her hand, make it twirl in the air, turn it into a million icy crystals, and make it rain down in soft snowflakes.
“Ah, our lady awakens!” A voice somewhere behind her murmured quietly, pleased.
She tried to turn her head, but she could not see him. “Unbind me!” The Empress commanded roughly as she struggled even harder against the restraints.
“Would that I could, my lady.”
Her stomach twisted in knots as the joy from moments ago dissipated quickly. The voice had moved closer, but he remained out of sight.
“You see, there is still the matter of our contract to conclude. Before we can even think about letting you go, we first need to see what you can do.” Suddenly, his hand brushed the hair back from her face, sweeping it behind her ear.
She froze.
The Vessel’s cracked lips were up against the curve of her ear, whispering: “Eilya Fitae Amaavian.”
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JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
The Mill at Little Elfhame
Old Market; RhyDin
Ishmerai was pacing the foyer, waiting for her when she exited the elevator. Jewell took one look at his face and then moved a half-step back, but the door had already closed behind her. Forced forward, she avoided eye contact and tried to step around him, but he shifted to block her way. She sighed wearily and stood still, waiting for the onslaught.
“Where have you been? I looked everywhere! Janel said she was unable to find you, and the other girls have been out combing the city for you all night!” He shouted out just a slim portion of what had been building up since she had disappeared yesterday.
She frowned, her small hands curling into fists at her side. She had emerged onto the streets of Old Temple less than an hour ago, the day obscured by a soaking rain. There had been no way for her to know how long she had been trapped inside the Temple of the Divine Mother: hours, days, weeks? It had felt like an eternity. Was it only yesterday that she went down those stone steps into the bowels of hell?
“I knew you would try something, but--” His eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Is that blood?” She turned halfway from him, crossing her arms over the soiled and soaked shift. Even the pouring rain hadn’t been able to fully wash her clean. Neither could it hide the ugly bruises on her arms and legs or the iron burns that marred the skin along the back of her body. At least it wasn’t her blood. She doubted that would reassure Ishmerai. She didn’t find much solace in that fact either.
He actually growled at her, “What did you do, Mira?” Silence. “Jewell, what did you do? I felt you yesterday. I know your energy signature! What did you do?” His rage was palpable.
She looked down at her bare feet and wiggled the iron burnt fingers of her right hand. The water which had puddled around her, dripping from her hair and skin, responded to her call, rising up from the floor to circle around them slowly.
There was no triumph or jubilation in her expression. She had her magic back. She was finally complete.
Her victory had been tainted.
The water splashed right back down onto the tiles, prompting a scowl. Her control was imperfect, the exertion of that simple act leaving her winded with a trickle of sweat working its way down the back of her neck to mix with the rain water.
Ishmerai observed the display silently, his jaw tight as he ground his teeth together.
“Mana works too,” Jewell added. As she had made her way back to Little Elfhame, she had been able to trace the familiar and ever-shifting ley lines of RhyDin under her feet. The city had been alive to her in a way she hadn’t known in a very long time.
She didn’t even care.
The knight didn’t care either. “And what, may I ask, was the cost of this?”
And they came to the crux of the matter. A sudden lump formed in her throat. Jewell shoved past him, mounting the stairs quickly. “Too much.”
The Mill at Little Elfhame
Old Market; RhyDin
Ishmerai was pacing the foyer, waiting for her when she exited the elevator. Jewell took one look at his face and then moved a half-step back, but the door had already closed behind her. Forced forward, she avoided eye contact and tried to step around him, but he shifted to block her way. She sighed wearily and stood still, waiting for the onslaught.
“Where have you been? I looked everywhere! Janel said she was unable to find you, and the other girls have been out combing the city for you all night!” He shouted out just a slim portion of what had been building up since she had disappeared yesterday.
She frowned, her small hands curling into fists at her side. She had emerged onto the streets of Old Temple less than an hour ago, the day obscured by a soaking rain. There had been no way for her to know how long she had been trapped inside the Temple of the Divine Mother: hours, days, weeks? It had felt like an eternity. Was it only yesterday that she went down those stone steps into the bowels of hell?
“I knew you would try something, but--” His eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Is that blood?” She turned halfway from him, crossing her arms over the soiled and soaked shift. Even the pouring rain hadn’t been able to fully wash her clean. Neither could it hide the ugly bruises on her arms and legs or the iron burns that marred the skin along the back of her body. At least it wasn’t her blood. She doubted that would reassure Ishmerai. She didn’t find much solace in that fact either.
He actually growled at her, “What did you do, Mira?” Silence. “Jewell, what did you do? I felt you yesterday. I know your energy signature! What did you do?” His rage was palpable.
She looked down at her bare feet and wiggled the iron burnt fingers of her right hand. The water which had puddled around her, dripping from her hair and skin, responded to her call, rising up from the floor to circle around them slowly.
There was no triumph or jubilation in her expression. She had her magic back. She was finally complete.
Her victory had been tainted.
The water splashed right back down onto the tiles, prompting a scowl. Her control was imperfect, the exertion of that simple act leaving her winded with a trickle of sweat working its way down the back of her neck to mix with the rain water.
Ishmerai observed the display silently, his jaw tight as he ground his teeth together.
“Mana works too,” Jewell added. As she had made her way back to Little Elfhame, she had been able to trace the familiar and ever-shifting ley lines of RhyDin under her feet. The city had been alive to her in a way she hadn’t known in a very long time.
She didn’t even care.
The knight didn’t care either. “And what, may I ask, was the cost of this?”
And they came to the crux of the matter. A sudden lump formed in her throat. Jewell shoved past him, mounting the stairs quickly. “Too much.”
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JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
The Mill at Little Elfhame
Old Market; RhyDin
She washed the suds from her long blue hair, tilting her head back to make sure she got the front. Then she grabbed up the soap bar and loofa, rubbing them together to get a good lather before she started on her arms.
The knocking came at the door again. “Mira? Mira, are you all right?”
“Go away!” she shouted loud enough for him to hear over the running water. She didn’t need any more of his dark, disapproving looks. The fear and horror on his face. The yelling. “Stupid knight,” she muttered as she went back to scrubbing, resting her foot on the shower seat so she could clean her legs next.
“Mira, you have been in there for well over an hour!”
She ignored him and scrubbed harder. Her skin was already red and raw and broken. She had lost count of how many times she had washed herself from head to toe. All the blood from the Temple was long gone, yet she kept scrubbing. Evidence of the ritual was visible all over her body, but that was okay. She didn’t need to scrub that away. It could be easily veiled with glamour.
But there were some things she could not hide away, mistress of illusionary magic though she was.
Jewell had been assaulted in the past, and the attacks had always left their marks. Every time, it seemed impossible to get the scent off her skin, her hair. She had never been able to scrub away their lingering touch, but that hadn’t ever stopped her from trying.
This time it was different. They hadn’t violated her body. Instead, they had gone after her soul.
They had profaned it.
Even with the sound of the water pounding on the tiles, she could still hear the horrible whisper of her name, her true name, in her ear. Nothing could block it out.
She hadn’t been able to move. Couldn’t think! She didn’t even have a semblance of control. With three little words, the priests from the Temple of the Divine Mother bent her completely and ever so malleably to their every whim and will. She hadn’t been able to fight them. Nothing had belonged to her anymore: her arms, legs, fingers, toes, her magic.
They owned it all because they owned her name.
Jewell had ceased to exist. Vanished without a trace. She had been forced from her own body. In her place, they filled her up with their thoughts and their desires. There wasn’t room for anything else.
Then they made her act on their command. “We need to see what you can do,” the priest had said.
She hadn’t disappointed.
Now she felt dirtier than even her very worst deeds in Faerie had ever managed to make her feel, and no matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't make it stop. She couldn’t clean the stain off her soul. She couldn’t cleanse herself of the violation.
But she had to try.
“Mira, if you do not come out soon, I am going to get Rayvinn.”
“Shut up! Just shut up and go away!” she screamed.
There was no response. She wasn’t sure if he actually walked away or not, but it didn’t matter. Jewell went back to scrubbing.
The Mill at Little Elfhame
Old Market; RhyDin
She washed the suds from her long blue hair, tilting her head back to make sure she got the front. Then she grabbed up the soap bar and loofa, rubbing them together to get a good lather before she started on her arms.
The knocking came at the door again. “Mira? Mira, are you all right?”
“Go away!” she shouted loud enough for him to hear over the running water. She didn’t need any more of his dark, disapproving looks. The fear and horror on his face. The yelling. “Stupid knight,” she muttered as she went back to scrubbing, resting her foot on the shower seat so she could clean her legs next.
“Mira, you have been in there for well over an hour!”
She ignored him and scrubbed harder. Her skin was already red and raw and broken. She had lost count of how many times she had washed herself from head to toe. All the blood from the Temple was long gone, yet she kept scrubbing. Evidence of the ritual was visible all over her body, but that was okay. She didn’t need to scrub that away. It could be easily veiled with glamour.
But there were some things she could not hide away, mistress of illusionary magic though she was.
Jewell had been assaulted in the past, and the attacks had always left their marks. Every time, it seemed impossible to get the scent off her skin, her hair. She had never been able to scrub away their lingering touch, but that hadn’t ever stopped her from trying.
This time it was different. They hadn’t violated her body. Instead, they had gone after her soul.
They had profaned it.
Even with the sound of the water pounding on the tiles, she could still hear the horrible whisper of her name, her true name, in her ear. Nothing could block it out.
She hadn’t been able to move. Couldn’t think! She didn’t even have a semblance of control. With three little words, the priests from the Temple of the Divine Mother bent her completely and ever so malleably to their every whim and will. She hadn’t been able to fight them. Nothing had belonged to her anymore: her arms, legs, fingers, toes, her magic.
They owned it all because they owned her name.
Jewell had ceased to exist. Vanished without a trace. She had been forced from her own body. In her place, they filled her up with their thoughts and their desires. There wasn’t room for anything else.
Then they made her act on their command. “We need to see what you can do,” the priest had said.
She hadn’t disappointed.
Now she felt dirtier than even her very worst deeds in Faerie had ever managed to make her feel, and no matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't make it stop. She couldn’t clean the stain off her soul. She couldn’t cleanse herself of the violation.
But she had to try.
“Mira, if you do not come out soon, I am going to get Rayvinn.”
“Shut up! Just shut up and go away!” she screamed.
There was no response. She wasn’t sure if he actually walked away or not, but it didn’t matter. Jewell went back to scrubbing.
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JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
The Mill at Little Elfhame
Old Market; RhyDin
“And you are sure you killed them all?”
Jewell tried to cuddle deeper into the oversized chair she was curled up on. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the plush robe closed and turned her face away from him.
“Mira, did you kill them all?”
Silence.
“Jewell, did anyone escape with your name?”
She shuddered and closed her eyes, a shiver shooting through her heart as she forced herself to admit out loud: “I don’t know.”
The Mill at Little Elfhame
Old Market; RhyDin
“And you are sure you killed them all?”
Jewell tried to cuddle deeper into the oversized chair she was curled up on. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the plush robe closed and turned her face away from him.
“Mira, did you kill them all?”
Silence.
“Jewell, did anyone escape with your name?”
She shuddered and closed her eyes, a shiver shooting through her heart as she forced herself to admit out loud: “I don’t know.”
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JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
The Mill at Little Elfhame
Old Market; RhyDin
She stared at the water. It murmured a greeting, whispering her name as it rippled invitingly.
She placed her hand just above it, and it responded to her call, leaping up to caress her skin.
She stepped into it hesitantly, and it embraced her like an old friend.
Jewell sunk down low into the tub and smiled.
The Mill at Little Elfhame
Old Market; RhyDin
She stared at the water. It murmured a greeting, whispering her name as it rippled invitingly.
She placed her hand just above it, and it responded to her call, leaping up to caress her skin.
She stepped into it hesitantly, and it embraced her like an old friend.
Jewell sunk down low into the tub and smiled.
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JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
The Royal Rabble Club
Old Market; RhyDin
For the twentieth time this afternoon, Jewell went through the basic forms of water manipulation as she had been taught a lifetime ago when she was just a little girl. She took a deep breath, adjusted her stance, and moved her arms in a waving motion through the air. The water from the large jug on the floor flowed upwards out the top before following her guidance in a streaming river.
Splash!
“Mother of **** Nature!” she stomped her foot.
“Again.” Ishmerai insisted dispassionately.
She glared at him over her shoulder before turning back to the water. She ran her hand through her hair in agitation before attempting to raise the water up off the mat where it was splattered.
It didn’t move.
“Come on!” she growled and tried to force it. The puddle shimmered, laughing at her. “Damn it!
“Mira, if you cannot perform even a simple move--”
“I know!” She snapped at him. “Bastards,” she muttered under her breath as she looked back to the water on the floor, curling her hands into fists.
Every single one of the priests at the Temple of the Divine Mother deserved what they got and then some. They had lied to her. Her heart’s desire, they had promised. Well, she certainly had her magic back, but it was imperfect. Tainted. Beyond control. The second she thought she had the mastery over it, the water slipped right through her fingers again. Elusive.
“Try it again.” The knight insisted.
She moved called to the water. Nothing happened. “Argh!” she shouted, throwing her hands up in frustration.
The water on the mats froze.
The Royal Rabble Club
Old Market; RhyDin
For the twentieth time this afternoon, Jewell went through the basic forms of water manipulation as she had been taught a lifetime ago when she was just a little girl. She took a deep breath, adjusted her stance, and moved her arms in a waving motion through the air. The water from the large jug on the floor flowed upwards out the top before following her guidance in a streaming river.
Splash!
“Mother of **** Nature!” she stomped her foot.
“Again.” Ishmerai insisted dispassionately.
She glared at him over her shoulder before turning back to the water. She ran her hand through her hair in agitation before attempting to raise the water up off the mat where it was splattered.
It didn’t move.
“Come on!” she growled and tried to force it. The puddle shimmered, laughing at her. “Damn it!
“Mira, if you cannot perform even a simple move--”
“I know!” She snapped at him. “Bastards,” she muttered under her breath as she looked back to the water on the floor, curling her hands into fists.
Every single one of the priests at the Temple of the Divine Mother deserved what they got and then some. They had lied to her. Her heart’s desire, they had promised. Well, she certainly had her magic back, but it was imperfect. Tainted. Beyond control. The second she thought she had the mastery over it, the water slipped right through her fingers again. Elusive.
“Try it again.” The knight insisted.
She moved called to the water. Nothing happened. “Argh!” she shouted, throwing her hands up in frustration.
The water on the mats froze.
-
JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
The Mill at Little Elfhame
Old Market; RhyDin
“I thought you were still writing your letters.”
She jumped, turning to find that it was only Ishmerai standing in her doorway. She glanced to her desk with its neat stack of handwritten notes and then turned back to the window. “I finished them a while ago.” Jewell closed her eyes. She could clearly see the names printed clearly in her handwriting on each of the envelopes. “Lamont knows what to do with them? And he’ll make sure the assets are all distributed correctly?”
The knight frowned, “Yes. Mira, you only interrogated the poor man on the details for over an hour yesterday.”
“I know.”
“If everything is done, then it is time to go. Dylan’s people will be expecting us.”
“I know,” she repeated at a whisper, her breath fogging up the glass as she leaned forward until her forehead rested against it.
“I can still do this for you. You do not even have to go to Faerie.”
She shook her head, her forehead rubbing back and forth along the glass. “You know I have to do this. It’s just--” She paused and stared at the city. Her city.
“It will still be here when you come back.”
The tears were already working down her cheeks when she turned to face the knight. “If I come back.”
The Mill at Little Elfhame
Old Market; RhyDin
“I thought you were still writing your letters.”
She jumped, turning to find that it was only Ishmerai standing in her doorway. She glanced to her desk with its neat stack of handwritten notes and then turned back to the window. “I finished them a while ago.” Jewell closed her eyes. She could clearly see the names printed clearly in her handwriting on each of the envelopes. “Lamont knows what to do with them? And he’ll make sure the assets are all distributed correctly?”
The knight frowned, “Yes. Mira, you only interrogated the poor man on the details for over an hour yesterday.”
“I know.”
“If everything is done, then it is time to go. Dylan’s people will be expecting us.”
“I know,” she repeated at a whisper, her breath fogging up the glass as she leaned forward until her forehead rested against it.
“I can still do this for you. You do not even have to go to Faerie.”
She shook her head, her forehead rubbing back and forth along the glass. “You know I have to do this. It’s just--” She paused and stared at the city. Her city.
“It will still be here when you come back.”
The tears were already working down her cheeks when she turned to face the knight. “If I come back.”
-
JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
The Cavern
Ta-Neer Lands; Faerie
“You look just like your mother.”
Jewell dropped her earring on the ground. She scowled as she crouched down and picked it up. “Thank you, uncle,” she responded as she straightened back up and returned to hooking the piece of jewelry in her ear. If only her hands would stop shaking. “I wonder how she would feel about the comparison if she were still here.”
He frowned. “Are you sure you are able to do this? You seem a bit.. jumpy.”
She huffed as she looked at his reflection in the mirror. “Dylan, did you take care of all your details?”
“Of course I did!”
“Your man from the High Court is here, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And Lorelei has agreed to everything?”
“She has.”
“And the correct guards are all in place?”
“Well… yes, but I don’t see--”
She returned to studying her own reflection. “You did your job, uncle. Now trust me to do mine.”
The Cavern
Ta-Neer Lands; Faerie
“You look just like your mother.”
Jewell dropped her earring on the ground. She scowled as she crouched down and picked it up. “Thank you, uncle,” she responded as she straightened back up and returned to hooking the piece of jewelry in her ear. If only her hands would stop shaking. “I wonder how she would feel about the comparison if she were still here.”
He frowned. “Are you sure you are able to do this? You seem a bit.. jumpy.”
She huffed as she looked at his reflection in the mirror. “Dylan, did you take care of all your details?”
“Of course I did!”
“Your man from the High Court is here, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And Lorelei has agreed to everything?”
“She has.”
“And the correct guards are all in place?”
“Well… yes, but I don’t see--”
She returned to studying her own reflection. “You did your job, uncle. Now trust me to do mine.”
-
JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
Ta-Neer Lands; Faerie
Anticipation and anxiety twisted together in Lorelei Ta-Neer’s stomach as she waded through the writhing mass of bodies, all drunk and high on any number of drugs Faerie had to offer. Ta-Neer hadn’t seen a party on this scale since the Great Wars had ended. People had come from all over. The festival grounds were flooded with Faerie and Fae. Nixies, Pixies, Boggarts, Grumpkins, Nymphs, Dryads, Banshees and Basilisks, Djins and Dwarves, Furies, Goblins, Harpies and Kelpies; Sirens, Sprites, Trolls, and Will-o-the-Wisps; Brownies, Druids, Witches, and Selkies; Centaurs, Minotaurs, and even Satyrs. Seelie and Unseelie, Solitary Fae and Troop.
They were all here to see Muirenn Ta-Neer, Lorelei’s only sister, crowned by a representative of the High Court. She was up on the dais right now. In a minute, a crown was going to be placed on her head.
Muirenn was about to be made untouchable.
Lorelei found her place at the bottom of the dais, off to the side with her brother Colwyn at her shoulder. She watched the ceremony with rapid interest, waiting for the moment when their whole world would change. Colwyn only looked on with disdain and snide comments.
Suddenly, there was commotion amongst a cluster of people nearby. Lorelei went on tiptoes to see. The crowd was parting for a blue haired Faerie that moved as smooth as water through them.
“What is she doing here?” Colwyn murmured, furious. Lorelei’s heart beat faster inside her chest. This was it!
“You!” She could hear Muirenn scream over the crowd as she stood from her regal kneel. “What are--”
There was a scream followed by the cacophony of hundreds of frightened people. Lorelei looked up with all the rest and gasped. Muirenn was rising above the crowd, floating above the dais, pulled by invisible strings. Her body had been stolen away from her. Her mouth was stretched in a soundless scream.
Lorelei’s eyes widened and her heart rose up in her throat. “Mother have mercy,” the quiet prayer escaped her lips. She stood rooted to her spot, horrified. The crowd crashed into her. Fae crazy with fear pushed her aside as they tried to get away. She struggled against them, lost in the madness. “Ahh!” Some large creature bowled into her stomach. “Colwyn!” she cried to him for help. All the faces around her were a strange, unfamiliar blur. Her brother had abandoned her.
“Oomph!” A Minotaur knocked into her shoulder and she tumbled to the ground. Trembling, she raised her arms up over herself for protection, too sick with fear to move. People were screaming, running, crying all around her. Someone tripped over her leg. A hoof crushed her hand. She cried out in pain, curling into a little ball, begging silently for it all to stop. She closed her eyes, but she could still see her sister floating in the air in tortured pain.
The noise of chaos quickly washed over her and away. An eerie silence filled its place. The whole world held its breath. Lorelei lowered her trembling arms.
Muirenn hung in the air above her, writhing.
Jewell stood her ground below, smiling.
Her cousin had transformed herself. She was a monster loosed on the world, born from the terrifying stories Lore’s nanna would tell her on stormy nights before she went to sleep. Her blue hair fell around her in waves, stirred by the magic she was performing. Her petite frame was draped in silk and her pale skin shimmered brilliantly like moonlight on the water. Her grey eyes were harder than steel and colder than iron.
Jewell’s arms were outstretched. Her hands moved rapidly as she worked something arcane and ghastly. Muirenn’s body responded: her muscles twisted to the breaking point; her limbs jerked and jilted; her body contorted.
It was grisly and terrible and awful, and Lorelei could not look away.
She couldn’t look away from Jewell.
She watched as her cousin vented her rage and sorrow upon her sister. Hundreds of years of hurt and pain came forth at a trickle: “You lied to me. You tricked me. You made me kill Horatio and Lilac. You forced me to torture Sunshine until she cried.”
Jewell’s jaw tightened, her voice rising in pitch as the words burst out. “You killed Trent and the boy on the cliff. You made me join The Hunt. You took my ring. You hurt my friends. You...” a sob broke through Jewell’s icy veneer, “you burned my house!”
Muirenn slipped from the air.
“No!” Jewell cried. She clenched her hands into fists and halted Muirenn’s collision course with the ground. Her muscles strained, her body heaving, as she fought for control. “Not yet,” she gasped out. “I am not done with you yet!” With a shuddering breath, she forced her cousin back up into the air, even higher than before. Sweat the color of blood streamed down the sides of her upturned face. She trembled with exertion but did not stop.
Now her words came as a torrent. “This is for Eva Jade and Oz and Raven. For Kerrick and Devyn and MORADIN!” Tears sprang up at the corners of Jewell’s eyes and quickly made their escape, running down her cheeks.
Her body curled forward as if she was physically afflicted, and she whispered the final incantation to the ground: “This is for Amanda.”
Jewell snapped her hands back to her chest. Muirenn rent apart.
A fine mist of blood rained down upon the crowd.
Muirenn fell.
Ta-Neer Lands; Faerie
Anticipation and anxiety twisted together in Lorelei Ta-Neer’s stomach as she waded through the writhing mass of bodies, all drunk and high on any number of drugs Faerie had to offer. Ta-Neer hadn’t seen a party on this scale since the Great Wars had ended. People had come from all over. The festival grounds were flooded with Faerie and Fae. Nixies, Pixies, Boggarts, Grumpkins, Nymphs, Dryads, Banshees and Basilisks, Djins and Dwarves, Furies, Goblins, Harpies and Kelpies; Sirens, Sprites, Trolls, and Will-o-the-Wisps; Brownies, Druids, Witches, and Selkies; Centaurs, Minotaurs, and even Satyrs. Seelie and Unseelie, Solitary Fae and Troop.
They were all here to see Muirenn Ta-Neer, Lorelei’s only sister, crowned by a representative of the High Court. She was up on the dais right now. In a minute, a crown was going to be placed on her head.
Muirenn was about to be made untouchable.
Lorelei found her place at the bottom of the dais, off to the side with her brother Colwyn at her shoulder. She watched the ceremony with rapid interest, waiting for the moment when their whole world would change. Colwyn only looked on with disdain and snide comments.
Suddenly, there was commotion amongst a cluster of people nearby. Lorelei went on tiptoes to see. The crowd was parting for a blue haired Faerie that moved as smooth as water through them.
“What is she doing here?” Colwyn murmured, furious. Lorelei’s heart beat faster inside her chest. This was it!
“You!” She could hear Muirenn scream over the crowd as she stood from her regal kneel. “What are--”
There was a scream followed by the cacophony of hundreds of frightened people. Lorelei looked up with all the rest and gasped. Muirenn was rising above the crowd, floating above the dais, pulled by invisible strings. Her body had been stolen away from her. Her mouth was stretched in a soundless scream.
Lorelei’s eyes widened and her heart rose up in her throat. “Mother have mercy,” the quiet prayer escaped her lips. She stood rooted to her spot, horrified. The crowd crashed into her. Fae crazy with fear pushed her aside as they tried to get away. She struggled against them, lost in the madness. “Ahh!” Some large creature bowled into her stomach. “Colwyn!” she cried to him for help. All the faces around her were a strange, unfamiliar blur. Her brother had abandoned her.
“Oomph!” A Minotaur knocked into her shoulder and she tumbled to the ground. Trembling, she raised her arms up over herself for protection, too sick with fear to move. People were screaming, running, crying all around her. Someone tripped over her leg. A hoof crushed her hand. She cried out in pain, curling into a little ball, begging silently for it all to stop. She closed her eyes, but she could still see her sister floating in the air in tortured pain.
The noise of chaos quickly washed over her and away. An eerie silence filled its place. The whole world held its breath. Lorelei lowered her trembling arms.
Muirenn hung in the air above her, writhing.
Jewell stood her ground below, smiling.
Her cousin had transformed herself. She was a monster loosed on the world, born from the terrifying stories Lore’s nanna would tell her on stormy nights before she went to sleep. Her blue hair fell around her in waves, stirred by the magic she was performing. Her petite frame was draped in silk and her pale skin shimmered brilliantly like moonlight on the water. Her grey eyes were harder than steel and colder than iron.
Jewell’s arms were outstretched. Her hands moved rapidly as she worked something arcane and ghastly. Muirenn’s body responded: her muscles twisted to the breaking point; her limbs jerked and jilted; her body contorted.
It was grisly and terrible and awful, and Lorelei could not look away.
She couldn’t look away from Jewell.
She watched as her cousin vented her rage and sorrow upon her sister. Hundreds of years of hurt and pain came forth at a trickle: “You lied to me. You tricked me. You made me kill Horatio and Lilac. You forced me to torture Sunshine until she cried.”
Jewell’s jaw tightened, her voice rising in pitch as the words burst out. “You killed Trent and the boy on the cliff. You made me join The Hunt. You took my ring. You hurt my friends. You...” a sob broke through Jewell’s icy veneer, “you burned my house!”
Muirenn slipped from the air.
“No!” Jewell cried. She clenched her hands into fists and halted Muirenn’s collision course with the ground. Her muscles strained, her body heaving, as she fought for control. “Not yet,” she gasped out. “I am not done with you yet!” With a shuddering breath, she forced her cousin back up into the air, even higher than before. Sweat the color of blood streamed down the sides of her upturned face. She trembled with exertion but did not stop.
Now her words came as a torrent. “This is for Eva Jade and Oz and Raven. For Kerrick and Devyn and MORADIN!” Tears sprang up at the corners of Jewell’s eyes and quickly made their escape, running down her cheeks.
Her body curled forward as if she was physically afflicted, and she whispered the final incantation to the ground: “This is for Amanda.”
Jewell snapped her hands back to her chest. Muirenn rent apart.
A fine mist of blood rained down upon the crowd.
Muirenn fell.
-
JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
Ta-Neer Lands; Faerie
Muirenn’s body fell to the ground and Jewell teetered forward, collapsing to her knees.
She had done it.
Oz, Raven, Eva Jade, Kerrick, Devyn, Moradin, Amanda. She had done it for them. And for herself. For two hundred years lost to Faerie. She would laugh if she could.
The taste of blood was in her mouth. It was everywhere. She could feel it on her face. It coated her hands. The scent of it in her nose was stifling.
She didn’t want to move. She wanted to curl up on the ground and be done with it. With everything.
But it wasn’t over yet. Not really. There were fights breaking out all around her. Guards were coming for her. The ones they hadn’t paid off.
She heard Ishmerai scream her name.
Jewell forced herself to her feet, her eyes on the dais. There was something up there that she needed.
She took a faltering step forward. And another. And then another. She climbed up to the dais, each movement agonizing. Her heart raced painfully insider her chest while fatigue made taking a single breath a challenge.
She stepped over her cousin’s fallen form with the slightest glance. She looked like a broken doll. Jewell had broken her. That thought made her smile.
When she gained the top, she faced the high court official with that twisted, pleased smile. His hands were still outstretched, the silver circlet he had been about to place upon Muirenn’s head hanging there between them.
“I believe that’s for me.”
Ta-Neer Lands; Faerie
Muirenn’s body fell to the ground and Jewell teetered forward, collapsing to her knees.
She had done it.
Oz, Raven, Eva Jade, Kerrick, Devyn, Moradin, Amanda. She had done it for them. And for herself. For two hundred years lost to Faerie. She would laugh if she could.
The taste of blood was in her mouth. It was everywhere. She could feel it on her face. It coated her hands. The scent of it in her nose was stifling.
She didn’t want to move. She wanted to curl up on the ground and be done with it. With everything.
But it wasn’t over yet. Not really. There were fights breaking out all around her. Guards were coming for her. The ones they hadn’t paid off.
She heard Ishmerai scream her name.
Jewell forced herself to her feet, her eyes on the dais. There was something up there that she needed.
She took a faltering step forward. And another. And then another. She climbed up to the dais, each movement agonizing. Her heart raced painfully insider her chest while fatigue made taking a single breath a challenge.
She stepped over her cousin’s fallen form with the slightest glance. She looked like a broken doll. Jewell had broken her. That thought made her smile.
When she gained the top, she faced the high court official with that twisted, pleased smile. His hands were still outstretched, the silver circlet he had been about to place upon Muirenn’s head hanging there between them.
“I believe that’s for me.”
-
JewellRavenlock
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February 2016 RSC
Ta-Neer Lands; Faerie
“That was quite an impressive display.”
She watched the man in his colorful livery pace the length of her sitting room with veiled interest. He was handsome. His long brown hair was held back by back a silver band, his pointed ears were free of any decoration, and his green eyes were bright when he looked at her. “You really think so?” She affected modesty so well! When he nodded, Jewell blushed. “Thank you. It was really nothing special.”
“Nonsense. I have never seen anything like it. What do you call it?”
“Blood bending.” He frowned, perplexed. “You see, what I do is seize all the water in the body. Then I bend it to my will. Although,” she added thoughtfully, “the water is not just in the blood. It’s in the muscles, the bones, your skin. So I suppose I really should think of a better term for it.”
He cleared his throat. “No no. I think that is accurate enough. And like I said, very impressive.”
“I’m surprised you appreciate it so much. A member of the Seelie High Court.” She shook her head. “I thought you were all so… pure.”
“Most do not have the stomach for such things.”
“But you do?”
He just smiled, changing his path to come closer to her. He took a sip of his brandy, watching her silently before offering another compliment, “The crown looks lovely on you, by the way.”
Her hand, still coated in dry blood, reached up to touch the silver circlet on her head self-consciously. It had not been made for her. “Thank you. Are you going to try to take it from me?”
“Are you going to insist on keeping it?”
She looked down, eyelashes fanning against her cheek, her smile coy. “And what if I do? Are you authorized to stop me?”
He laughed. “Mother help me. After what you did this evening? I do not think I could even if I wanted to.” His eyes seemed darker now that he was so close, his voice quiet even though it was just the two of them. “Besides, I could be culpable in all of this, you know. I did place it on your head, after all.”
“So you did.” Jewell conceded with a slight nod. After she had slain Muirenn on the dais and ruined the party, she had stepped right over the body as if it was nothing and knelt to accept the crown that had been meant for her cousin. The fireworks that went off moments later had been a very nice touch. “What are we to do with ourselves then, hmm?” She stretched her arms over the back of the settee, legs crossing in front of her, chin tilted up daringly. She cut a rather inviting figure, even with her dress splattered in blood. “If you are not here to wrest this crown off my pretty little head, what is it that you intend to do?”
“Just as I was asked.” He drained his glass. “I plan to deliver the Ta-Neer terms to the High Court along with my report, which will paint this evening in a very favorable light to you, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I will plead your case before the Court as well if I must.” He moved even closer, setting his empty glass off to the side. “Ask for mercy for you.”
When he reached over her and brushed her blue hair back behind her ear, Jewell was incredibly proud that she didn’t scream and tear him to pieces then and there. The full picture of the deal her uncle had made was coming into focus. She smiled. “What else are you prepared to do for me?”
Ta-Neer Lands; Faerie
“That was quite an impressive display.”
She watched the man in his colorful livery pace the length of her sitting room with veiled interest. He was handsome. His long brown hair was held back by back a silver band, his pointed ears were free of any decoration, and his green eyes were bright when he looked at her. “You really think so?” She affected modesty so well! When he nodded, Jewell blushed. “Thank you. It was really nothing special.”
“Nonsense. I have never seen anything like it. What do you call it?”
“Blood bending.” He frowned, perplexed. “You see, what I do is seize all the water in the body. Then I bend it to my will. Although,” she added thoughtfully, “the water is not just in the blood. It’s in the muscles, the bones, your skin. So I suppose I really should think of a better term for it.”
He cleared his throat. “No no. I think that is accurate enough. And like I said, very impressive.”
“I’m surprised you appreciate it so much. A member of the Seelie High Court.” She shook her head. “I thought you were all so… pure.”
“Most do not have the stomach for such things.”
“But you do?”
He just smiled, changing his path to come closer to her. He took a sip of his brandy, watching her silently before offering another compliment, “The crown looks lovely on you, by the way.”
Her hand, still coated in dry blood, reached up to touch the silver circlet on her head self-consciously. It had not been made for her. “Thank you. Are you going to try to take it from me?”
“Are you going to insist on keeping it?”
She looked down, eyelashes fanning against her cheek, her smile coy. “And what if I do? Are you authorized to stop me?”
He laughed. “Mother help me. After what you did this evening? I do not think I could even if I wanted to.” His eyes seemed darker now that he was so close, his voice quiet even though it was just the two of them. “Besides, I could be culpable in all of this, you know. I did place it on your head, after all.”
“So you did.” Jewell conceded with a slight nod. After she had slain Muirenn on the dais and ruined the party, she had stepped right over the body as if it was nothing and knelt to accept the crown that had been meant for her cousin. The fireworks that went off moments later had been a very nice touch. “What are we to do with ourselves then, hmm?” She stretched her arms over the back of the settee, legs crossing in front of her, chin tilted up daringly. She cut a rather inviting figure, even with her dress splattered in blood. “If you are not here to wrest this crown off my pretty little head, what is it that you intend to do?”
“Just as I was asked.” He drained his glass. “I plan to deliver the Ta-Neer terms to the High Court along with my report, which will paint this evening in a very favorable light to you, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I will plead your case before the Court as well if I must.” He moved even closer, setting his empty glass off to the side. “Ask for mercy for you.”
When he reached over her and brushed her blue hair back behind her ear, Jewell was incredibly proud that she didn’t scream and tear him to pieces then and there. The full picture of the deal her uncle had made was coming into focus. She smiled. “What else are you prepared to do for me?”
-
JewellRavenlock
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February 2015 RSC
Ta-Neer Manor House
Ta-Neer Lands; Faerie
“Ah, there she is! Our conquering hero.” Dylan Ta-Neer greeted his niece with a warm smile when she swept into the small breakfast parlor.
Ishmerai wisely stepped out of the way as Jewell crossed the room and slapped her uncle across the face. “You bastard! You told him I’d sleep with him?”
Dylan laughed incredulously, raising his hand to his red face. “I may have suggested it. Do you think allies amongst the High Court come cheap, my dear?”
“It wasn’t enough that you sold Lorelei to him?” Dylan shrugged. “You’re unbelievable,” she hissed.
Her uncle raised his glass for another sip. “As long as you did the job, I do not care what you think of me.” His eyes narrowed and he lowered his glass suddenly. “You did do it, didn’t you?” She turned her face away from him, scowling at the ground. “Jewell, please tell me you did not fuck this up right at the end.”
Her smile was bitter when she looked back up at him. “Of course not uncle. You know how long I have waited for this to come to fruition. I would not dare dream of fucking it up now.”
“Oh good.” Dylan relaxed just as quickly.
“May I suggest, though, that you see to our new friend? He should be leaving for the Court within the hour and if the terms he carries with him are not what they should be--”
“Yes yes, of course.” Dylan Ta-Neer rose hastily. He may have been the elder here, but he did not miss the threat in Jewell’s tone nor the look she levelled at him as he departed.
When the door closed behind him, the knight and his lady stared at each other for a moment. “Did you really sleep with him?”
Jewell moved over to the table, picked up the glass Dylan had left behind, sniffed it, and then took a sip. “Shouldn’t you be with the healers?”
Ishmerai shifted his arm slightly. It was still in a sling. “I have had several sessions already. I will have another before we leave. You are the one who should be with the healers. Do not think I did not see you collapse yesterday.”
“I thought you were too busy to notice,” she smiled faintly.
“Mira, you pushed your body beyond what it is capable of. You were sweating blood!”
She laughed mirthlessly, “How could you tell? How could anyone tell? There was so much blood… it was everywhere.” She sank down into the seat her uncle had vacated. With her elbow planted on the arm of the chair, she buried her face in her hand.
“Mira,” he called her softly, “you did not answer my earlier question. Did you sleep with that man?”
“What?” She looked up at him, baffled, before shaking her head. “No. Of course not. You know I said never again. I’d rather ruin this tentative peace than buy it like that.”
“Then how--”
Jewell sighed. “He was drunk, Merai. Beyond drunk. On spirits and bloodlust and power. Just talking about what I had done to Muirenn aroused him. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on me.”
The knight frowned. “So you glamoured him?”
“I did.”
“And you do not think he will notice?”
It was her turn to frown. “Really, Ishmerai. I am skilled in more than just killing Ta-Neer monarchs, you know.”
“So you are.”
Ta-Neer Manor House
Ta-Neer Lands; Faerie
“Ah, there she is! Our conquering hero.” Dylan Ta-Neer greeted his niece with a warm smile when she swept into the small breakfast parlor.
Ishmerai wisely stepped out of the way as Jewell crossed the room and slapped her uncle across the face. “You bastard! You told him I’d sleep with him?”
Dylan laughed incredulously, raising his hand to his red face. “I may have suggested it. Do you think allies amongst the High Court come cheap, my dear?”
“It wasn’t enough that you sold Lorelei to him?” Dylan shrugged. “You’re unbelievable,” she hissed.
Her uncle raised his glass for another sip. “As long as you did the job, I do not care what you think of me.” His eyes narrowed and he lowered his glass suddenly. “You did do it, didn’t you?” She turned her face away from him, scowling at the ground. “Jewell, please tell me you did not fuck this up right at the end.”
Her smile was bitter when she looked back up at him. “Of course not uncle. You know how long I have waited for this to come to fruition. I would not dare dream of fucking it up now.”
“Oh good.” Dylan relaxed just as quickly.
“May I suggest, though, that you see to our new friend? He should be leaving for the Court within the hour and if the terms he carries with him are not what they should be--”
“Yes yes, of course.” Dylan Ta-Neer rose hastily. He may have been the elder here, but he did not miss the threat in Jewell’s tone nor the look she levelled at him as he departed.
When the door closed behind him, the knight and his lady stared at each other for a moment. “Did you really sleep with him?”
Jewell moved over to the table, picked up the glass Dylan had left behind, sniffed it, and then took a sip. “Shouldn’t you be with the healers?”
Ishmerai shifted his arm slightly. It was still in a sling. “I have had several sessions already. I will have another before we leave. You are the one who should be with the healers. Do not think I did not see you collapse yesterday.”
“I thought you were too busy to notice,” she smiled faintly.
“Mira, you pushed your body beyond what it is capable of. You were sweating blood!”
She laughed mirthlessly, “How could you tell? How could anyone tell? There was so much blood… it was everywhere.” She sank down into the seat her uncle had vacated. With her elbow planted on the arm of the chair, she buried her face in her hand.
“Mira,” he called her softly, “you did not answer my earlier question. Did you sleep with that man?”
“What?” She looked up at him, baffled, before shaking her head. “No. Of course not. You know I said never again. I’d rather ruin this tentative peace than buy it like that.”
“Then how--”
Jewell sighed. “He was drunk, Merai. Beyond drunk. On spirits and bloodlust and power. Just talking about what I had done to Muirenn aroused him. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on me.”
The knight frowned. “So you glamoured him?”
“I did.”
“And you do not think he will notice?”
It was her turn to frown. “Really, Ishmerai. I am skilled in more than just killing Ta-Neer monarchs, you know.”
“So you are.”
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