Tiberius wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Something theatrical, perhaps. It would have been entertaining, for example, to explain to Mariette Nicollier that no, she would not be going to Minrathous. Not even to see her only living daughter wed.
Alas, it seemed as though Lyric’s parents did not care to rise early enough to see her off – and much less were they willing to consider dangerous international travel. He was disappointed, though uncertain himself whether it was only this diminishment of sport that had gotten under his skin. Certainly he didn’t feel protective over his future bride’s feelings.
Really, after perhaps an hour in Lyric’s company, there seemed hardly anything there to feel at all. Not one way or the other. She’d expressed no opinions and barely spoke, rising neither to her own defense nor to that of her family’s name. Grandfather would entirely approve, of course. She was something like the old man’s ideal of a first wife: an easily controlled mage of no particular importance to breed and then discard. A more politically advantageous match could be worried about later, once House Umbra’s legacy was secure.
Tiberius had his doubts. He watched the Nicolliers’ servants load and secure most of Lyric’s belongings, wondering idly what might be in the bag she carried herself. His mind ran naturally to the paranoid, from weapons to poisons to maybe just a particularly offensive beef sandwich. (He could not abide the consumption of flesh – red meat and blood sorcery made nauseating bedfellows.)
He opened the carriage door and offered her a hand up, climbing in after she was settled. Tiberius sat across from her, peering back out through the wire lattice windows. The view was poor, but he could perceive as much or as little as he liked of what his summoned demons saw and smelled and heard. He set them to a trot with a thought, eager to be gone.
Even worn down as it was, Val Royeaux was still beautiful. He could afford to be fond, just for now. Yesterday he might have preferred to burn the whole city down. After several minutes of silence, his eyes flicked back to Lyric’s face. Belatedly, he remembered he should be doing more to entertain her. That thought was neatly discarded with a curl of his lips.
“It’s your last chance to run away screaming, I’m afraid. The roads are far too dangerous and I cannot abide turning back or diverting once we’re upon them.”
Alas, it seemed as though Lyric’s parents did not care to rise early enough to see her off – and much less were they willing to consider dangerous international travel. He was disappointed, though uncertain himself whether it was only this diminishment of sport that had gotten under his skin. Certainly he didn’t feel protective over his future bride’s feelings.
Really, after perhaps an hour in Lyric’s company, there seemed hardly anything there to feel at all. Not one way or the other. She’d expressed no opinions and barely spoke, rising neither to her own defense nor to that of her family’s name. Grandfather would entirely approve, of course. She was something like the old man’s ideal of a first wife: an easily controlled mage of no particular importance to breed and then discard. A more politically advantageous match could be worried about later, once House Umbra’s legacy was secure.
Tiberius had his doubts. He watched the Nicolliers’ servants load and secure most of Lyric’s belongings, wondering idly what might be in the bag she carried herself. His mind ran naturally to the paranoid, from weapons to poisons to maybe just a particularly offensive beef sandwich. (He could not abide the consumption of flesh – red meat and blood sorcery made nauseating bedfellows.)
He opened the carriage door and offered her a hand up, climbing in after she was settled. Tiberius sat across from her, peering back out through the wire lattice windows. The view was poor, but he could perceive as much or as little as he liked of what his summoned demons saw and smelled and heard. He set them to a trot with a thought, eager to be gone.
Even worn down as it was, Val Royeaux was still beautiful. He could afford to be fond, just for now. Yesterday he might have preferred to burn the whole city down. After several minutes of silence, his eyes flicked back to Lyric’s face. Belatedly, he remembered he should be doing more to entertain her. That thought was neatly discarded with a curl of his lips.
“It’s your last chance to run away screaming, I’m afraid. The roads are far too dangerous and I cannot abide turning back or diverting once we’re upon them.”
04-13-2024, 03:36 PM
