Silver Blades: Prize Fight

Part 3, Section 3 - The Other Tilwenor

L.E.Y. 3252

Ivy.

... Then, to my astonishment, flower boy walked in.

For the first time that day I did not feel entirely in control of my situation. That familiar song in my blood called me; tempted me to draw steel and fight my way free. I could actually feel tendrils of Terrok's spirit tingling at my feet just looking at him, although not as strongly as they had at the church, with Clasicant.

My hand was already at the pommel of my sword when Maid Orluz rose to greet her guest.

"Sir Ill'Enniniess," Orluz gushed, taking his hands in hers. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I was left half-standing, mouth hanging partway open in shock. Her reaction was not what I would have expected. Part of me ached to pull steel and run the blasted son of a bitch through. Part of me longed to clench my fingers in the perfect waves of his hair. Discovering an unforeseen option I didn't want at all, I instead froze while my stomach tied itself in knots.

"Please, love, we are too much like family to stand on such formality," he returned, bowing low and pressing his lips to one delicately gloved hand. "Must I have a reason to visit?"

"After everything that has happened, I was afraid I would never see you again." She wielded that pouty-blushy-coy thing in ways that made my attempts at the church seem ham-fisted. "And surely not this week. You seem tired."

"I admit events did not unfold as I would have wished," he agreed, straightening, "Had you but taken my advice and married sooner, we might have avoided much discomfort. Your match into the Faranado family wasn't so easy to arrange, you know."

"If I had," she said, a dangerous flash of dark eyes belying her civil tone, "I would have been left to the mercy of that beast."

"Ah, yes, the curse," Pertuli mused. "Strange, isn't it, how no one in his family had any idea? Usually those who contract lycanthropy do so in ... memorable ways."

Clearly uncomfortable with the subject, Maid Orluz suddenly remembered I was there. "Oh! Have you met—"

"Ivy Tyne, the Untamed  herself," he cut in, smiling. His memory was much sharper than his friend's. "I am glad to find you well. I have heard great things of your exploits!"

"Tulip," I nodded, unable to force a smile. "No thanks to you and your friends."

"Now be fair," he chided, nothing but smiles, "You have to admit, my help was the key to your success..."

"Yeah, yer a peach," I growled. "Was on the run for thirty-five years before they declared sanctuary. That care package is the only reason ya aren't slicking m'lady's carpets black with the bloody contents of yer spilt innards."

"And they are such fine carpets, darling," he said, smiling at the floor in appreciation. "Your mother has excellent taste." For all the world like I'd been making small talk. My knuckles whitened on my pommel.

"They're old fashioned anyway," Balina said with a quick eye roll. "But Miss Ivy, do control yourself. Sir Ill'Enniniess is a very old friend."

"Of course," I pushed through clenched teeth, "mistress. But he better watch himself."

"Always!" Pertuli smiled, the unease immediately behind him. "Let's get more comfortable, shall we?" He took Orluz's hand, escorted her to the couch, and sat himself beside her.

"What is this?" the tilwenor asked in alarm. He brushed the edge of her glove aside with a thumb before she pulled it away.

"Just a scratch," she answered. "A reminder of a careless moment." Moving to the nearby chair, I caught a glimpse of angry pink skin peeking out from beneath her glove before she re-covered it.