Salad of doom

Katrien leaned back in her chair and listened, expression neutral and composed as Ailwin spoke. She knew him too well to take the prickliness personally – or the statement of the obvious. Of course he wanted more time, more information. They all did. Anyone with eyes and ears would.

“Do you remember Chateau d’Onterre? The way the palace is shut up tight – it reminds me of that mess. I have a few people in mind, but they’ll need a good mage to watch their backs.” Hopefully, Ailwin could supply one. If not, it was safer for their people to simply watch and contain the spread.

Now, the looming in her space and the rough whispers were going a bit too far. Katrien stood, fixing her friend with her best shit-eating grin. She lifted her hand, pushing against his collarbone with two fingers. Not hard; just enough to make her wish for personal space clear.

“Goodie, Ailwin. I’m glad you’re up for the challenge; you can tell me all about the plan when I get back.” She rounded the chair, putting it between them, and stretched her arms behind her, braids rustling. “As you know, I’ve been of a mind to take a purse and see the Marches for myself.

“I'll secure us a safe place to land just in case time is shorter than we think.”

@Ailwin