His schedule had changed, so that instead of being rotated off Palace duty for his next two week period, that he was there the entire month around Seraphine's name-day, something he was thankful to Deme for, after all, there had been plans in motion that required him to be around instead of shuffling off back into rotation like a good little soldier was. It had allowed him to spend his off days, the rare few he allowed himself, in the Palace, watching everything.
He had done his own investigating into the "cat cult" incident, happy that his findings had been reported in, and he had nothing else to do with the entire evening. If Malachai wanted to pretend the Jolfy woman was just an asset, then he would let the older man have his delusions, just like Malachai allowed him to have the illusion that his sticking around the Palace on his off days was more than just watching the Salvo woman. And what he was finding out made him angry. The older attendant, Dorothy, was a real piece of work. Undoing the work Seraphine had done, and then telling her to do it again.
And it was one such situation he had been watching for the moment from the doorway into one of the open air gardens, where some of the female attendants were gathered, either for sun, or purely gossip, Malik didn't know, but it was Dorothy's picking up of a pot of just brewed tea that had him in motion -- the younger woman already in the process of trying to up-end the entire pot over Seraphine's head -- his robed arm outstretched and trying to get between her and the hot liquid before too much made it's mark, using magic to almost step through the shadows quickly to protect Sera. His robes could be laundered and while Seraphine could be healed from burns, the psychological damage would still be there. You're so clumsy, Dorothy. He told the younger woman, as the last of the tea left the pot, and he stood to swipe a hand down the fabric to knock the liquid off before any more of it could seep into the weave. Who has need of such a clumsy attendant... he trailed off as he looked over Seraphine, checking to see if she was hurt.
While she was still awaiting a decision over her future, Seraphine’s routine had continued as usual, besides the Chancellor’s permission to attend invitations. Her engagements had seen an uptake, recantations of her few public appearances had tongues wagging piquing the nobles interest in her performances, annoying Malachai with persistent requests. Leaving the City was still off limits, as was going anywhere outside of the Estate unchaperoned, but it was wise given recent events.
The night was still such a haze, and flashes would return at inappropriate moments, catching her off guard and distracted, allowing Dorothy to gain the upper hand on a few occasions. It wore against an already waning wall as Saffy’s cheeks were wet with tears before she could finally find sleep. She had enough pride to never let the brat see her tears but the Ward had no power, no family and certainly no reliable magic to lean on. Her friends were sparse, most abandoning or clamming up entirely the moment Dorothy and her cohorts would begin the bullying.
Sometimes, more often now, Saffy would outsmart her, but twice already she had missed the clues. Today she had simply wanted to eat her lunch in the gardens, unaccosted, yet Dorothy seemed to not even allow her that. Creeping over, she’d attempt to approach her from behind yet a hand knocked the pot clear, splashing the hot liquid over the Eye’s Executioner. Dorothy stammered, murmuring hurried apologies,
“Oh I am. I am so clumsy. I feel terrible, are you alright, Lord Vrai? I shouldn’t have been carrying such a heavy pot… I nearly got poor Seraphine too. I’m soooo sorry.”
The Salvo blinked, eyeing the two warily though when landing on Dorothy they narrowed slightly. Remembering her mouth was full Seraphine began chewing again, hand hiding her mouth before pulling herself to stand and offer the Vrai a polite greeting. The vapour of steam from his arm then caught her attention and a hand made to reach, but was quickly snatched back again.
Are... you alright? ...I'm sure Dorothy just lost her footing, because if Sera said otherwise, Dorothy would find another way to enact on her jealousy.
He continued his show of knocking the liquid off the midnight black robe -- dressed again in the richer blacks and silks of his station in the palace and not the usually greens and lesser woven fabrics that his name afforded him. There was stark contrast in the quality of clothing he wore in the palace versus what he had worn for his night out at the Blind Eye. He raised an annoyed eyebrow at Dorothy as he knocked the last of the ocher hued liquid from the sleeve. It was a show after all, he cared little about the fabric, it was as woven as tight as could be, and had protected his arm just fine, a little heat -- he assumed, but no liquid had been able to permeate the weave. That's what money bought, after all. Money and a job that put him in a position to need to be viewed as ineffable.
He sighed, exaggeratedly as he looked between them. Not only did you ruin this robe, but an expensive pot of tea too with your clumsiness, girl. Does someone need to let the masters of the house know how wasteful your two left feet have you? And having watched as much of the household as he had the past few days, And you, sitting in such a place where a clumsy servant could fall and spill tea, in the middle of a wide open area, you should know better. For those with half a brain the would see it as a scolding, for those with any real intelligence, the true intention would shine through.
Well, what are you just standing there for, you spilled the tea, go brew a new pot and bring it here to me without spilling it as recompense. The longer he stood there, the more the pain in his arm was starting to bloom into something else. While the liquid hadn't gone through to his skin, the heat the water had been at.. Dorothy had to have taken it still boiling from the brazier -- he could feel the skin under starting to bubble some from the heat, it would be nothing for a healer, but the pain annoyed him -- it would have disfigured Seraphine, and that thought alone had him ready to gnash teeth and snap the other woman's neck.
His station dwarfed theirs by numerous levels, while Dorothy held a strong lead over Seraphine’s lowest standing among the three young nobles. Climbing the ladder had never entered Sera’s mind, though avoiding it entirely was a sure death sentence if someone could use them for their own means. The steam still rising from his arm was proof of that, even if he shrugged it off as nothing, she wouldn’t have faired as well given her light attire. Yet, despite the harmful intention, once he began scolding the young woman’s attention was fully caught, her head snapped towards his face.
Perhaps, instead of scolding her for trying to carry something so heavy, you should scold the housekeeper. There has been a shortage of servants this week, we’ve all had to pick up the slack. Dorothy’s head snapped back, surprised by the defence, though a line of suspicion framed her brow before she too emphatically nodded her head.
“Yes. Saffy’s right, we’ve all been struggling a bit. It doesn’t excuse my clumsiness, of course. I’ll go and this time ask for aid.”
The urge to roll her eyes was nearly impossible to resist, but indeed Sera resisted. The harsh tone of his words caused each girl’s shoulders to slightly shake, the retreating cowering away while the remaining Salvo quietly rose to the challenge. Appearances had to be maintained despite his timely rescue, but she was unsure given their previous interactions what to expect from him.
Does it hurt? her voice softer, surprising herself as the question fell.
I certainly will then, if you say this negligent behavior is the fault of the housekeeper. Salvo, stay still there, you're owed another scolding for tht loose tongue. He waited until Dorothy and the others were well away, gone off to brew the pot again before he grunted, rolling his eyes as he turned away, Are you fine? He found himself asking, as she asked to his arm, and he shook his head, Nothing that a quick trip to the healer won't solve. It's fine. Are you alright, did any get on you? He made sure to keep his tone low, in case anyone decided to come back and make themselves a nuisance.
Don't fuss at me, I had to lay into you as well, so she won't make things worse on you. Everyone knows she's a petty vapid thing that has made it her life's goal to try and maim as many palace servant as possible, I'm not even sure why she hasn't been on my list of beheadings already. He shook his head again as he went to cross his arms, wincing as the silk pulled along the seared skin, and he felt a blister rupture. Instead, he dropped his arm back in place, and left it there. He would have to not move it until he could find a healer to fix the heat burn.
I have a favor to ask of you, I was going to ask someone else in the palace, as to not have any more escalations like this.. but, I think it would be wise to get you away from your daily duties for a little while. Malik paused, before looking back over to her, turning slightly so that he could keep an eye on the doorway, watching Dorothy fuss over the new kettle that she'd bring along in a few minutes, as soon as it boiled and brewed properly. They had time still, I'll be taking care of my niece for a few days, and I need another set of eyes and hands to keep her safe, your sword work here as of late is impeccable, and I don't believe you'd kill my sister's child to spite me, which makes you the top of my list of candidates. Can I trust you in this?
Her jaw clenched at his retort, but she remained, not sparing a glance to Dorothy until they both cautiously asked. Strange, that two enemies would offer concern for the other. I remain unharmed. He confused her terribly, the line of suspicion never quite unfurling completely whenever he drew near or deigned to speak with her. It’s fine? Then she’s more stupid than I thought.
She rolled her eyes as he chided her for showing any concern. Etiquette and propriety still stood, she could enquire of it and not raise much suspicion. Everyone also knows her father is very connected within the Senate. You harm her and you harm his support for the Archon, then the Chancellor has to send you to their door. Her brose rose with her assessment of the board being played, That is why she gets away with it. Fear kept those few unable to stand up to her in silence, struggling to survive, yet Sera refused to be prey.
His posture became off again, distracting the dancer as he spoke of favours and escalations. Get away… where? With you? Between the potential favor and his look, Sera eyed him with growing hesitation, the suspicious line of her forehead deepening. This sudden shift from cold indifference to active engagement had her second guessing, taking a step back as he looked for Dorothy’s return. Her retreat was well in the making, even before he explained further his request. A child. He wished to put her within the vicinity of a child when not even a week prior she had….
No. Without another word she turned and walked away. Her hands pulled the ties of her robes closer, cursing under her breath both his idiocy and her own for a possible means of revenge.
Ridiculous. She would never harm a child, not intentionally. Yet unintentionally? She couldn’t trust herself in the current moment, earning his request firmly denied.
Malik listened closely to what she had to say about the other woman and decided that it might not be worth the effort to scare her into submission in the long run, after all, another Magister making waves probably would be frowned upon greatly, and then he would have to hear about it. And as much as he hated to see people get ahead in the world because of nepotism like that, he liked exposing his family even less. So the woman would be able to live -- for now. Until he decided to change that, to make her vanish one day. He would, if the offense was deep enough, if the crime the other woman committed could be.. Treasonous.
Yes, Malik thought to himself, yes, treason would do just nicely. It would tie a pretty little bow on the package as well. A Magister wouldn't align themselves to someone with even the slightest whiff of conspiracy around them, at least not within certain circles. Look at what had happened with the Tilani's -- Kaczor had defended a few too many seditious people in the courts, got ideas of grandeur going on and then everyone had turned their back on her. The only reason she came away as unscathed as she had was that he had killed a few people personally to keep her safe in prison, and the vast fortunes her family held. Dorothy wouldn't be long for the world if she kept on like this.
And that … somewhat shocked him. That he'd care at all like that.
He reached out and caught her around the wrist, gently, an easy hold to break if she jerked away, it was meant more as a means of arresting her departure, he had more words, It's currently a request, Seraphine, don’t make me make it anything else by continuing to refuse. I need a third set of hands when it comes to your new friend's child. He dropped his voice lower, Or at least someone at the house who can be trusted to help cook and do some light cleaning, perhaps some entertaining at the child's bed time, and it gets you away from here for a little while. Your new friend would appreciate the help as well, she's just not in the position to ask herself, personally, at the moment. He let that linger in the air, it wasn't just a favor for him, but a favor for her new acquaintance as well.
Seraphine’s lips tightened as Malik’s hand encircled her wrist, his grip light but unmistakable in its intent. She froze, her gaze dropping briefly to his fingers before rising to meet his eyes. A faint glimmer of amusement flickered in her expression, sharp and bitter like the edge of a knife.
I wondered how quickly you'd dissolve into a threat, she murmured, her tone laced with disdain. I suppose it’s my fault for expecting anything else. You rarely fail to deliver.
Her wrist twitched, and she easily pulled it free, unconsciously rubbing the spot where his touch lingered. She didn’t need to look hard to piece it together
The child, was Lady Tilani’s. Her thoughts hung between them like a drawn blade, slicing through the pretense he tried to weave. You didn’t mention her name, but the theatrics gave you away. And if I recall correctly, the only Magister notorious enough to match your dramatics is them.
She took a step back, crossing her arms as she glared at him. And you thought to drag me into this? Did you forget what I did? Her voice dropped, low and tense. I don’t trust myself around that child. It isn’t safe. Not for her, not for anyone. At least within the Archon’s estate there’d be plenty of chances to be taken down, prevented from harming anyone.
Her refusal was clear, resolute — or at least it would have been, if not for the flicker of guilt in her gaze. She turned on her heel, ready to walk away, but his words caught her, held her in place. Sera exhaled sharply, her annoyance unmistakable. You’re not leaving me a choice, are you? She glanced at him over her shoulder, her dark eyes flashing. You never do.
With a frustrated sigh, she spun back around, her arms dropping to her sides. Fine, I will think on it, she snapped. The venom in her voice did little to mask the discomfort written across her face. She hated being maneuvered like this, hated the way he always seemed to know just the right string to pull. But for now, for Kaczor’s sake, she had no other choice. Always a pawn, never the master of her own destiny.
Malik's eyes swept the open area, making sure no one else was there to witness their little spat, a frown on his face, but he had expected no less from her. After the alley-way, after his bed, but that was just it, he didn't want it to be a threat, didn't want to have this fight with her, even if he knew he had unfortunately pushed it towards this. Perhaps if you were more open to ideas outside the realm of your comfort zone, allowing yourself to live a little, I wouldn't have to resort to ordering you to doing something for your own good. That was going to go over like a pallet of stone blocks being dropped.
Please, I trust you more around her than I do most. You can fight. You have a good brain on your head, and you know when the hunger is upon you, do you think for a moment I would allow you near her if I saw it rise it's ugly head up in you? You hunted the man for almost an entire evening. You have more control over it than you imagine, and you had more than enough time to say something. He watched her spin the story around nearly as much as she spun herself.
Is there anything I can say in this in which won't paint me a villain and will have you more agreeable to spending a week or two at my estate, which is right next door to your friend? Malik wouldn't say that it was mainly for her to be near by in case Kaczor got too emotional over what all happened. Malik wasn't one to be comforting, well, not in a way that would put his sister-in-law at ease. But the two of them had seemed to make fast friends, and having the woman around just in case was, part of the reason too. He had thought, that using the excuse of needing more help with the child care might be the right maneuver, but that was quickly become apparent to be the wrong pawn to move across the field. Deme would scold him for such a bumbling opening maneuver. He should have thought it through more before using that as his gambit.
Then there was also that he had to make sure, sure of Seraphine, before the order from Malachai came down to marry the woman. Knowing his father, it would be a large wedding, an actual "to-do" in which half the realm was invited. He had to make sure that she could withstand the scrutiny that would put her under, even knowing that at some point the papers would read "Murder Suicide of New Bride and her Groom" if they wouldn't figure out ending this curse together. Too many pieces moving on an already overcrowded board.
Seraphine’s eyes narrowed at Malik’s words, the sting of his insinuation sparking a fury she didn’t bother to mask. She stepped closer, her presence radiating tension like a drawn bowstring. Before she gave herself time to second-guess it, her hand flew towards him in a slap, the motion sharp and decisive. Whether it connected or not, the intent was clear: she would not be spoken to like that, not by him or anyone.
To live a little? she repeated, her voice cutting like shards of ice. Interesting coming from someone who, along with the Chancellor, has made sure I’ve had little agency over my own life. Don’t you think?
Her chest rose and fell as she took a steadying breath, glaring up at him. First you threaten, and now you try flattery? Let me guess, next you’ll offer me some grand favor I never asked for, all while making it impossible to say no. Her lips curled into a bitter smile. You’re predictable in your manipulation, but at least you’re consistent.
She turned away, her shoulders stiff with indignation, her words now colder than the air between them. It’s difficult to accept anything you say when you continue to prove you’re unwilling to give even a slight inch — to consider, even for a moment, the feelings of those you’ve harmed.
Her voice softened, but only in volume, not in tone. You’ve already decided how this will play out, haven’t you? So why bother asking?
She stopped just before leaving, her back still to him, her voice clipped and final. Can I leave now? I have to pack.
Without waiting for a response, she began to walk away, her footsteps firm and deliberate, a testament to the storm brewing inside her.
