Our Dark Prince (The Scottish Play)

XCVII. In The Lionʼs Den

16
PRINCE MANOR
Desdemona
Vinci, LA
Catahoula County
November 1st, 2014
Present Day
_____________________________

In her nightmares, the perfumed aroma of lilac and gooseberries followed her.

Among the quiet of the foyer, Desdemona ate her strawberry peevishly, dipping it into the sickly sweet dark chocolate and biting into the strawberryʼs core with stealthy silence. As she chewed, she listened to the chatter aimlessly bob through her eardrums – the sounds of her silky piano keys, of Sebastianʼs Italian business feelings, of the lionhearted feverishness that wrapped the halls in damned wedding lace. As she ate, she paced – fingers delicately the the winterized sheets, the Vera Wang silverware and petite glass of black roses that sat perched upon the ivory piano. Desdemona stared, curious.

An omen of death, maybe.

Fitting.

"Welcome home, Desdemona," She murmured wryly, snapping Desdemona out of her bitter reverie. Biting her tongue, Desdemona watched Robin stroll into the room and observed her appearance; replacing the leather rags with her sonʼs silken riches.

Oh, how she loathed her.

"And I wish I could say that you and I are surprised that youʼre here, unannounced, in my suite. But subtlety was never one of your strong suits, Robin dear," Desdemona murmured, pouring herself bourbon on the rocks and dipping into her ice-bed with plastic prongs.

Robin smiled wickedly.

"And subtlety was never yours, Desdemona," Robin murmured as her fingers pressed into the couch.

"How was Milan?"

    Lilac and gooseberries, like the perfume Maya Santiago used to wear.

Desdemona smirked at Robin, downing the bourbon in one go.

"Thatʼs rich, coming from you. You donʼt care about my business dealings in Milan. Youʼve never showed interest in the Order, how it works. Always about the money, never about the process."

Robinʼs eyes screamed for blood. Ripping the bourbon bottle away from Desdemona, Robin drank from the bottle, unflinching.

"Youʼre right. I could give a damn about your precious little Order and the man you bedded to get it," Robin snapped. "What did you say to Sebastián?"

"Youʼre pregnant, dearest. Donʼt think I need to educate you on the negative side effects of mixing alcohol and child bearing."

"I would rip this baby out of my uterus and smash its brains in if it meant leaving you another bloody mess to clean up," Robin growled. "What did you say to my husband?"

"Fiancé," Desdemona corrected, sipping her bourbon daintily. "And nothing he didnʼt need to already hear."

Robin laughed, cold as winter wind.

"Itʼs amazing, the lengths youʼll go to for self preservation," Robin snapped. "Unhappy in your marriage, so you try everything to sink your claws into mine. If itʼs not one womanʼs husband youʼre stealing away, thereʼs always another."

Robin smiled wickedly, her eyes dancing with delight as she bore her teeth.

"You get off on this, donʼt you? Policing Sebastiánʼs love life."

Eloquently sniffing the bourbon, Desdemona took a long sip and curled her lips around the glass, smirking.

"Oh, my dear, I know what a woman in love looks like and thatʼs not you. From the second I laid eyes on you, Iʼve always known there was something...wrong about you."