Rich, Spoilt, Rotten

It had been his mistake to bring her here in the past, but then her gift had a way of catching him off guard. She was unlike the others who he navigated with ease, Mal usually held all the cards, knew their secrets before they did. Yet he could never quite catch all of Maze’s cards. He’d been intrigued by her for a spell, scratching an itch without committing, lying as usual to suit his needs. And then he’d grown bored. The Eyes became more than duty and serving Demetrius more important than fueling her irritating infatuation with him.

He’d scoff but nod slowly at her words, it was neither encouraging or dismissive. You shouldn’t come to the edge if you fear the fall. Gaze remaining on the streets below, Mal’s other senses tracked her inevitable movements, head instantly tilting to the other side when she reached for the mask.

You know the rules, Mazikeen. Brows furrowed in disapproval, no pet name fell to sound home the reminder of his position and her place. After a deep breath he righted, glancing over to her. What did your cards say, I wonder? That I was in distress? another scoff, the fall of the barrier has created many an issue…. Yet… we are fortunate the South is so weak our position is actually favourable. He’d laugh a little, though it lacked any real amusement it did settle his shoulders, leaning back on his hands.

Remind your Kin to resist making fools of themselves. That Princess from Antiva is more interesting than she appears. Turning, Mal regarded her seriously. Your Father is lucky she decided against scrambling his mind and Lord Pavus intervening. She was quite adept at helping interrogate the shapeshifter. I didn’t even get a look in. It had irked him, but then his compensation had been a frustratingly enjoyable snuggle with the innocent Orlesian botanist. Mal let out a low disgruntled sigh.

I came here to think, partially, not talk, Maze.

@Mazikeen Felinus