Stepping Stones
"What's wrong, Johannes?" she cooed from a side hall, voice laden with unconcerned sugar. "Bad phone call?" He heard the leather of her boots as she slid them on with practiced ease, punctuating his thoughts. Though he didn't look up when she entered the room, his ears easily tracked her through passage on the carpet as she walked to the vanity.
"I can't figure out who has a hold on her," he murmured to himself, straightening in the comfortable leather chair that was once a gift to Lord Edward Savage. Chuckling as he rose, he gave the leather a familiar pat. "She tried to threaten me, suggest that it was possible she could kill me in my sleep for what we did to her country." A soundless chuckle gripped him as he shook his head, smiling. "One would almost imagine she were embraced half a century ago and spent all time since in eclipse; she knows the world has changed, but can hardly understand that I have as well."
"How old do you imagine she is then?" Astrid asked, setting her hair back in a tight bun, glancing at her husband in the lit mirror.
"Ten years? Twenty?" he guessed with a shrug. "It hardly matters. Some day she will believe that I intend her no harm, as there is no reason for me to. Though I do believe," he continued, his eyes dancing above a wicked smile, "she is terrified of you in a way few others could be."
She paused placing pins in her hair, turning to look at him. Her pale skin was a stark contrast to the dark lipstick and eyeshadow; her gaze in life could cripple a man's resolve and in death its potency had grown tenfold. "As well she should be. Do you intend on seeing her again?"
"She will be here Tuesday," he smiled, walking to the large armoir to select a blazer. "She wishes this visit to be 'professional' instead of personal." Johannes nearly scoffs at the friviolity of the notion, calling over his shoulder, "Perhaps she would like to consolidate a more formal business arrangement; her leige is dead."
Astrid's reflected eyebrow raised in a gesture often attributed to her husband. "And you will be her new Lord?"
Johannes couldn't hold back his laughter. "Some would say I already am, but I doubt I am the only one. She would never relent so easily." He paused, jacket in hand, turning towards her with a new thought. "She trusts me with her life, has trusted me with her body," his words received no reaction from Astrid, "yet she will not trust me with her mind. A pity."
"You said she blushed? Breathed? 'Made' your heart beat?" she asked, wicked sarcasm dripping from her voice.
"As I said, she is either young or very ignorant. That will change." His voice steely, frustration flitted over his features nevertheless. "She has something I want, and I am of yet in no position to get it. This I do not like."
Astrid continued sitting, inspecting her hair in the mirrors.
"I will discover what has befallen her," his voice a promise to the empty air.
"I can't figure out who has a hold on her," he murmured to himself, straightening in the comfortable leather chair that was once a gift to Lord Edward Savage. Chuckling as he rose, he gave the leather a familiar pat. "She tried to threaten me, suggest that it was possible she could kill me in my sleep for what we did to her country." A soundless chuckle gripped him as he shook his head, smiling. "One would almost imagine she were embraced half a century ago and spent all time since in eclipse; she knows the world has changed, but can hardly understand that I have as well."
"How old do you imagine she is then?" Astrid asked, setting her hair back in a tight bun, glancing at her husband in the lit mirror.
"Ten years? Twenty?" he guessed with a shrug. "It hardly matters. Some day she will believe that I intend her no harm, as there is no reason for me to. Though I do believe," he continued, his eyes dancing above a wicked smile, "she is terrified of you in a way few others could be."
She paused placing pins in her hair, turning to look at him. Her pale skin was a stark contrast to the dark lipstick and eyeshadow; her gaze in life could cripple a man's resolve and in death its potency had grown tenfold. "As well she should be. Do you intend on seeing her again?"
"She will be here Tuesday," he smiled, walking to the large armoir to select a blazer. "She wishes this visit to be 'professional' instead of personal." Johannes nearly scoffs at the friviolity of the notion, calling over his shoulder, "Perhaps she would like to consolidate a more formal business arrangement; her leige is dead."
Astrid's reflected eyebrow raised in a gesture often attributed to her husband. "And you will be her new Lord?"
Johannes couldn't hold back his laughter. "Some would say I already am, but I doubt I am the only one. She would never relent so easily." He paused, jacket in hand, turning towards her with a new thought. "She trusts me with her life, has trusted me with her body," his words received no reaction from Astrid, "yet she will not trust me with her mind. A pity."
"You said she blushed? Breathed? 'Made' your heart beat?" she asked, wicked sarcasm dripping from her voice.
"As I said, she is either young or very ignorant. That will change." His voice steely, frustration flitted over his features nevertheless. "She has something I want, and I am of yet in no position to get it. This I do not like."
Astrid continued sitting, inspecting her hair in the mirrors.
"I will discover what has befallen her," his voice a promise to the empty air.