Despair noticed her before he did. There was a terrible phantom sensation of overlong loose-skinned arms wrenching his head around. By the time Tiberius was done swallowing his disgust, he was curious. There wasn’t much that frightened his demon, and yet frightened it was – the physical symptoms were unmistakable. His heart raced, the hair on his neck and arms stood on end.
It was thrilling, really. Like waking from one nightmare into another. In this one, his grief was small enough to put aside – if only for a moment, as his demon recognized another predator and misliked its chances. Etiquette slowly won out over instinct and demonic urging both. He rose to his feet; a gentleman should not be seated while a lady stood, shackled as she was by uncomfortable looking shoes. It felt rather pointless though, with the staring and the sniping.
“You have me at a disadvantage, madame.” As to her question, he only gestured at the plaque. Seven months and eighteen days – while six months was the prescribed mourning period for a man to grieve a spouse. Perhaps he’d been more reclusive than others, self indulgent in his sorrow. It was not her business. He turned to face her, returning her animosity with appraisal and shuttered eyes.
This petite woman in black was a stranger or near to one, seen perhaps a few times at a distance. Not highborn, at least so far as he knew. But the princess’s loyal creature all the same, a power that would wax and wane with Giada’s fortunes. And weren’t they calling the boy Emperor now? Even as detached from the world as Tiberius lately was, that could hardly escape his notice. The light in his hand floated lazily to his shoulder and he hooked the thumbs of his empty hands in his pockets. It wasn’t wise, letting this person get a rise out of him. Yet the irritation was there just the same, at war with his demon’s blind scrabbling. Stupid creature; running would only invite a chase.
“Do you have some business with me – or has your mistress suffered some misfortune lately?” The latter, addressed to the graveyard at large. It was an unsuitable place for royalty but you never knew with poor relations. And you could say she was dressed for mourning.
It was thrilling, really. Like waking from one nightmare into another. In this one, his grief was small enough to put aside – if only for a moment, as his demon recognized another predator and misliked its chances. Etiquette slowly won out over instinct and demonic urging both. He rose to his feet; a gentleman should not be seated while a lady stood, shackled as she was by uncomfortable looking shoes. It felt rather pointless though, with the staring and the sniping.
“You have me at a disadvantage, madame.” As to her question, he only gestured at the plaque. Seven months and eighteen days – while six months was the prescribed mourning period for a man to grieve a spouse. Perhaps he’d been more reclusive than others, self indulgent in his sorrow. It was not her business. He turned to face her, returning her animosity with appraisal and shuttered eyes.
This petite woman in black was a stranger or near to one, seen perhaps a few times at a distance. Not highborn, at least so far as he knew. But the princess’s loyal creature all the same, a power that would wax and wane with Giada’s fortunes. And weren’t they calling the boy Emperor now? Even as detached from the world as Tiberius lately was, that could hardly escape his notice. The light in his hand floated lazily to his shoulder and he hooked the thumbs of his empty hands in his pockets. It wasn’t wise, letting this person get a rise out of him. Yet the irritation was there just the same, at war with his demon’s blind scrabbling. Stupid creature; running would only invite a chase.
“Do you have some business with me – or has your mistress suffered some misfortune lately?” The latter, addressed to the graveyard at large. It was an unsuitable place for royalty but you never knew with poor relations. And you could say she was dressed for mourning.
04-03-2024, 06:08 PM
