Thank you?
That was almost enough to wound his pride – such a tepid reaction to the presentation of a priceless family heirloom! If he ever had to recount this moment, Tiberius would simply be forced to lie quite egregiously. Though he hoped she wouldn’t be foolish enough to sell it. He had not been entirely joking about the curse.
Emeric was looking between them, taking in Tiberius’ partial state of undress and the blood looking like so much more now that it was spread around everywhere. Color remained in the old man's cheeks while the rest of his face had gone pale as table salt. That was interesting. Did the Nicolliers imagine that their daughter would wish to hurt him if she could?
“Yes, yes. More than fine. Everything may proceed apace.” He could put them off until Val Royeaux freed itself from the darkspawn or succumbed to the siege. Only there was a folded broadsheet under Emeric’s arm, something he’d been reading at the breakfast table. Tiberius tilted his head to get a better look before impatiently snatching the paper away.
“It’s gone? Truly?” Hope shredded his voice, thought and emotion blending into an incomprehensible roar in his mind. Tiberius rubbed his chin, his grip on the paper turning limp and nerveless. That handful of words changed everything.
Emeric was talking. Something about how Lyric was so very precious now that they all were reunited, and that her travel from Starkhaven had cost so much. Surely he could understand how it had undue strain on the family coffers. Tiberius barely heard him until Emeric’s hand slapped down on his shoulder, with too much force to be considered entirely friendly. His unseeing gaze flicked back, focusing with barely concealed loathing on the Orlesian nobleman.
“Our deal stands as it is, Monsieur. Now, prepare your daughter for travel. I expect to leave at dawn.” Then, to Lyric with a distracted glance back. “Forgive me. I must make ready.” He continued through the house and let himself out the front door.
That was almost enough to wound his pride – such a tepid reaction to the presentation of a priceless family heirloom! If he ever had to recount this moment, Tiberius would simply be forced to lie quite egregiously. Though he hoped she wouldn’t be foolish enough to sell it. He had not been entirely joking about the curse.
Emeric was looking between them, taking in Tiberius’ partial state of undress and the blood looking like so much more now that it was spread around everywhere. Color remained in the old man's cheeks while the rest of his face had gone pale as table salt. That was interesting. Did the Nicolliers imagine that their daughter would wish to hurt him if she could?
“Yes, yes. More than fine. Everything may proceed apace.” He could put them off until Val Royeaux freed itself from the darkspawn or succumbed to the siege. Only there was a folded broadsheet under Emeric’s arm, something he’d been reading at the breakfast table. Tiberius tilted his head to get a better look before impatiently snatching the paper away.
“It’s gone? Truly?” Hope shredded his voice, thought and emotion blending into an incomprehensible roar in his mind. Tiberius rubbed his chin, his grip on the paper turning limp and nerveless. That handful of words changed everything.
Emeric was talking. Something about how Lyric was so very precious now that they all were reunited, and that her travel from Starkhaven had cost so much. Surely he could understand how it had undue strain on the family coffers. Tiberius barely heard him until Emeric’s hand slapped down on his shoulder, with too much force to be considered entirely friendly. His unseeing gaze flicked back, focusing with barely concealed loathing on the Orlesian nobleman.
“Our deal stands as it is, Monsieur. Now, prepare your daughter for travel. I expect to leave at dawn.” Then, to Lyric with a distracted glance back. “Forgive me. I must make ready.” He continued through the house and let himself out the front door.
04-09-2024, 03:00 PM
