Theories and Prophesies of the Liar Zenovia

Rene raised a brow, his face a perfect mask of calm amusement. He reached up to rub the spot on his cheek where her lips had pressed a moment before, as if testing for permanent damage.

If I find butterflies embroidered into my clothes, Ophelia, I swear I’ll set a horde of wasps on you. You’ll have to sleep with one eye open. His mouth curved in a wry smile, but there was a flicker of something darker beneath his eyes—a calculation he wouldn’t let surface.

As the bells tolled louder, his lips pressed into a thin line, though his tone remained light. A friend and confidant, is it? You? With your legs wrapped around his waist? He leaned just slightly closer, his grin smug and teasing. I’m sure that’s the very picture of diplomacy. I can only imagine the Tevene court writing sonnets about such negotiations.

His gaze drifted momentarily to the window, the urgency of the bells clawing at his nerves. His mind turned over the plan he and Luce had set in motion—carefully laid contingencies for this precise scenario. The ringing matched the pattern they’d feared most: Orlais falling, the Blight encroaching.

Rene straightened, his expression softening as he touched her elbow. Come on, Lia. We’ll figure it all out on the way. His voice was steady, his demeanor reassuring, even as his stomach churned.

He guided her through the hallways with purpose, ignoring the curious glances of others as they passed. When they reached the stables, a plain carriage was waiting, its driver standing ready. Rene motioned toward it.

I have to check on a colleague, he lied smoothly, his voice devoid of hesitation. Something I can’t delay, he’s an old coot and will need some convincing, but I need you to do exactly as I say. Get in the carriage. The driver knows where to take you—it’s a safe spot we arranged earlier. Luce will already be there, or he’ll join you shortly with the others.

His hands lingered on her shoulders as he looked her square in the eyes. No detours, no heroics. Just get to Luce. Understand? Rene’s heart ached to think this might be the last time he saw her, but he wouldn’t let that crack his resolve. Ophelia was his sister, not by blood, but by spirit and he’d burn the city to the ground before he let harm come to her or Luce. Go, he said firmly, stepping back to allow her to climb into the carriage.

The bells continued to ring as Rene turned away, his jaw clenched tight. He spared a final glance over his shoulder, watching the carriage begin to roll away before he returned back into the University grounds.

~ Fin?

@Ophelia Jolfy