TroubleIsOurBusiness-GoranAndTearThe guard escorted Goran down first one corridor, then another ... and finally into a room hung with shot silk drapes in shades of deep violet and vivid turquoise that shifted unexpectedly to rich orange and brilliant green as they stirred in the draft from the open door. There was no bed but a gently swaying hammock hung from the ceiling, piled high with softest down cushions in old gold and deep rose. In the centre of it, seemingly fast asleep, was a white furry shape, like another cushion. With rather long ears. At the door, Goran sent the guard off to find hot water, bandages, needle and thread. He entered the room and paused, surveying it for potentially useful items. After a moment, he approached the hammock, having decided that the... thing was probably sleeping mostly on a single large pillow and the other pillows surrounding it, along with the blanket that hid beneath them, were likely expendable. Cradling Tear in one arm like a sleeping child, he began pulling pillows off the hammock, dropping them to the floor and arranging them with his feet while saying, "I beg your deepest pardons, m'lor...uh... Lady, um. Yeah. I'm sorry to disturb your rest, but I have an emergency here." One ear lifted, followed by a snout. and Goran found himself look into the face of a disgruntled fox. Realizing that this was not some shape-shifted Chaosian lord, Goran groaned in exasperation. "So what has the kid been up to this time?" said Tanstaafl. In his arms, the young sorceress stirred from her unnatural slumber. She gripped at him, nuzzling against his chest with a low groan. "Owwww," she complained groggily. Her eyes fluttered open, staring up at him confused. "Goran?" "Shhh...easy," he soothed with a gentle squeeze. Tear buried her face in his chest, closing her eyes in pain. She began to shiver more noticeably as the chilling dampness settled into her body. "Well?" said Tanstaafl. "How come you let her get like this?" "Me?!" Goran protested. "Where the hell were YOU?" He tugged one side of the hammock upward, rousting the fennec from his nest, then laid Tear down in the warm spot that was left behind. He spread the blanket over her and brushed her hair back from her face, checking the color and feel of her skin as he did so. "Easy, ptica. What happened to you?" he asked Tear gently in Russo. Tear gazed up at him sadly. "My head feels big," she pronounced. When no one disagreed or commented further, she pulled the blankets up to her chin. "And I'm wet. Ewwww. It must be the fuzzball's fault." "WHAT?" said Tanstaafl incredulously. "That's right, blame me." "I just did," Tear snorted. "Weren't you listening?" She reached out and ran her fingers through his fur, scratching his radar-dish ears. Her eyes widened as she noticed the blood on Goran's shirt. "Are you hurt?" "No. That's yours," Goran said, sounding more weary that Tear had ever seen him. He knelt down next to the hammock and pulled a clean handkerchief from his back pocket. Carefully, he turned her head away from him so he could examine the gash. "Tan, can you look around here and see if you can find something to clean this or use as bandages until that guard shows up?" The fact that Goran called the fennec by his name indicated how seriously he was taking the situation. As with most head wounds, Tear's injury appeared worse than it actually was. Once cleaned up, it'd probably be little more than a nasty bump and laceration. Tear winced and whimpered during the examination. "Owww. Owwwy. Just stick your damned finger in it, why not?" A sigh of relief escaped her when Goran gave her a momentary reprieve. "I could just heal it you know," she said. She closed her eyes and began to concentrate. Almost immediately, she groaned in agony and gripped her head, crushing her eyes with her palms. She gave a mousy squeak, "Bad idea. Bad idea." "It's all right, hon. Let me get this one," Goran soothed softly, squeezing her shoulder. "There's some shot silk here," announced the fennec. "You could make her a turban." "That'll do," Goran said, accepting it. "And check that wardrobe in the corner. I'll bet there's a pair of scissors in one of the drawers in the bottom." Turning back to Tear, Goran asked, "So what happened out there? The mob give you this?" Tear smiled faintly. "No. I gave it to myself. I made it rain. And the spell got away from me. So I took a tumble, I guess." She gave a cynical snort, a sound completely contrary to her nature. "At least I didn't land on Captain Morgan's knife. I'm sort of fond of my kidneys. At that, Goran's hands twitched in surprise, pulling the bandage a little tighter than necessary. "Owwww! I'm not the Queen, Goran. You don't need to use a sailor's knot." A pained laugh betrayed her appreciation, nonetheless. "Sorry," he apologized, though his expression had grown cloudy behind her back. She closed her eyes and let him work on her. "Just make sure I don't look like a nihang once you've wrapped my head? And Fuzzball. See if there's a quill and some nice paper around. I need to write a letter to Lord Feldane. And then you can tell me where you've been." The fennec could be heard muttering as he explored the possibilities of the room. While the fennec was occupied, Goran posed a question of his own. "So what's the story about the Duke being at your house?" he asked as he finished arranging the bandage. "Tasha," Tear said flatly, as if this one word explained everything. She wrinkled her nose with annoyance. "My new housemate thought it would be most delightful to bring my family over for tea. She brought that bastard into my home. My home!" Her lip curled back with feral anger. "He hurt Sparrow. Warped her mind. Now she's little more than a stupid pet. The King thought I should just put her down." Goran's brow furrowed with worry. She folded her arms and snorted. "And some King he is. The city still burns and he disappears?" "Paper," said the fennec, a little thickly. "Pen." He dropped both on the hammock and licked his nose delicately. Tear reached over and scratched his ears, "Thanks." "Thanks, Tan," Goran said, then turned to Tear. "He has his reasons," he stated flatly in answer to her question, though he did not seem inclined to elaborate. Goran took her hands in his and chewed his lip soberly. "Tell me something honestly, Tear. You've never seen this Duke before, have you? There's nothing there that...," She could see he was trying to word this delicately. "... that him, being of Helgram, would... entice you to work for... him? Is there?" Tear tried to sit up in the hammock, supporting her back with some pillows. She folded her knees so she could write while they talked. With the pen hanging from the corner of her mouth, she considered Goran for a moment. She glanced away as a shiver passed through her. "There had been," she murmured. "But any desire I had of working with him ended the instant he hurt Sparrow." She paused, chewing on the pen. "Now, I'll be the first to admit. That he is very. Alluring." A weak shrug. "I've sought that level of power all my life. And he has political clout in my House. I could go quite far if I. Sided with him. But. The cost is too high. I'll not slip the leash of one master, only to wear the collar of another." Goran studied her dark eyes as she spoke, his gaze unrelenting. Tear idly began her letter to Lord Feldane. At one point she glance up at Tanstaafl and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Whatever thought had entered her head, she quickly dismissed it. Tanstaafl sat beside the hammock, looking as innocent as only a fennec fox can look. Goran nodded slowly, considering Tear's words and watching her as she wrote. "I was not wrong then," he began after a moment. "Cap'n Morgan asked if I trusted you, you being Helgram and all." He paused, letting that sink in. "I told him I did, but I knew that level of power would be... seductive for you. That it would be hard for you to resist it. That if it had already overtaken you, we'd be in trouble." He rested a hand on her knee gently. "But you know what's at stake here now. You've seen it." He grimaced at some unpleasant thought, but pushed on. "As hard as it was to witness what he did to your friend, you needed to see that. Because he has worse planned for the rest of us. For anything - and anyone - associated with the Pattern of Amber." His eyes remained upon her as he finished gauging her reaction. Tear smiled at Goran's touch, setting her pen aside long enough to rest her hand upon his, squeezing with appreciation. "It was tempting," she admitted. "I'll certainly not deny it. But what he did to Sparrow. That was truly unforgivable. I will not become like him. I could never do that to another person. No matter what the King thinks." She returned to drafting her letter. "I know what is at stake, Goran. I didn't go into the Arden on a whim, I'll have you know. Not that it did much." She glanced over at him, eyes flickering ghostly violet. "Amberites are a closed-minded brood. I can see why they lost the war. But I'll be damned if I allow that stubbornness undo my home. And my peers? They're even worse in some ways. So to hell with the elders. It will be our generation that saves this city. From itself, if we have to." Tear brushed an errant, raven lock aside, annoyed. Goran initially bristled at her commentary on Amberites, but acquiesced with a wry smile when he realized she was not wrong. "So it will," he muttered in agreement. "And how are you gonna do that?" asked a cynical voice, somewhat close to the floor. "I'm sure she has a plan," Goran smirked over at the fennec. He turned back to Tear. "You do have a plan, don't you? And before you go too far with it, do you know yet that Mandor is out of the picture?" Tear paused for a moment, the quill hovering in her fingers. "What?" She touched the feather to the tip of her nose, considering the shadows beyond her bed. A pout soon pursed her lips. "Hellfire. I wanted to kill him myself." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Ah well. Disappointment is endemic constancy in my life, I suppose. "Make a note that we must to his study with great urgency. I doubt we shall be the only ones to rifle over his notes this evening." Goran's eyebrows arched in stunned disbelief at her casual air, but before he could comment, Tear continued. Tear resumed her writing with a flurried, yet elegant hand. "And yes. I have a plan. Tomorrow I meet with the representatives of this rebellion. Well, some of them anyway. With luck, I can bring them further down the path of revolution. A peaceful and controlled one, mind you." She paused again and gazed up at Goran with angry eyes. "Am I pretty?" The fox dropped to the ground as if shot, rolled over and waved his legs in the air. "If we're going to get onto your concerns about your self-image you'd better go to the back of the queue for ransacking Mandor's study." Tear's violet gaze descended on Tanstaafl in a shot, spearing him to the floor like the Sword of Damocles. She opened her mouth to growl some blistering retort, but her Grumble-brother beat her to it. "Stow it, furball," Goran shot back at him sharply. He turned back to Tear. "'Course you are. What makes you wonder that all of a sudden?" Tear blushed happily, scrunching up her shoulders. "Thank you, Goran. You're objective about that. When it comes to me, anyway. So hearing it from you means a great deal." Having finished her letter, she levitated the quill and ink well over to the night stand. She began blowing on the paper to dry the ink. "Princess Flora said I was ugly. Not directly, of course. I swear that she sounds elegant even when she insults you. Anyway, her words stung a little. Especially after having seen. . . /her/. You know. The other woman. Or am I the other woman?" Tear shrugged, "Whatever. None of that matters now. I was simply curious." Goran wondered upon the strange conversational patterns of young women for a moment, then shook his head with a reassuring smile. "You're your own woman, Tear. Don't compare yourself with anyone else. As for Princess Flora, the world would be pretty dull if all women were blonde and statuesque. We need short, dark beauties to keep things interesting," he smirked. Tear grinned brightly, her cheeks burning with joy. "Thanks." "I have a question for you though, if you feel up to it," he ventured, seeming suddenly a bit uncomfortable. "Cap'n Morgan seemed concerned that my brush with that infernal might have given the Duke some kind of access to... my psyche or... whatever you call it. Is there any way to determine that? That you know of?" A frown darkened Tear's expression. "I hadn't though of that. But yes. If he created a sympathetic connection to you, then he could have access to your thoughts. Or perhaps worse. He may have created a 'sleeper' compulsion in your mind. At some specific point, it'd go off like a psychic bomb. Make you do something terrible. Like kill the King." Goran grimaced. She tugged on her ear, considering this for a moment. When she finally gazed up at him, her eyes were empathic, but tainted with worry. "There is a way for me to discover that sort of manipulation. But the process is rather. . . invasive. For an Amberite like yourself, it will be even more unpleasant." Tear reached out for his hand. "Do you trust me?" He took her hand. "Yeah," he said without hesitation. "It's the 'unpleasant' part I'm wondering about. Unpleasant like a dentist's drill or unpleasant like a magical explosion inside my head?" "Icky is a better word," Tear said. "Your body, infused as it is with Pattern, will try to reject my probing. Think of it as. . . water torture. But inside your head. It won't do any permanent damage, but it might leave you with a nasty hangover. And. . ." She shifted uncomfortably in her hammock. "You may not think I'm so pretty after you see me summon the Logrus." She cocked her head, biting her lip. "Are you sure you want me to do this, Goran? I'll see you deepest thoughts. Mapping your brain is going to take time and I'll see things you might not want. . . seen. I know you're a private man. So. . . I wanted to warn you ahead of time." The fennec stayed supine on the floor. Tear sniffed at the fennec's apparent indifference. "Don't be so calm, furball. You're next. I want to know what happened after my contact with you." Goran bore the distasteful expression of one about to undergo an unexpected colonoscopy. He stood and rubbed his brow agonizingly, then heaved a resigned sigh. "You'll see what you'll see, I guess. You might not think I'm so pretty either afterward," he grimaced wryly. "Tell me though. What happens if you DO find something? Can you get rid of it without blasting my mind completely? Or having it take you over instead?" "Pull up a chair, so I can reach you," Tear said. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her expression darkening with pain for a moment. With a shake of her head, the discomfort passed. She waved off any concerns before they were even uttered, "Just a long couple of days. I'm fine." Goran did as he was told and dragged over an overstuffed ottoman. He sat down in front of her with his arms resting on his knees. She provided him a compassionate smile as he sat down. Her hands brushed back his hair, outlining the curve of his temple. "If I find something, then I'll deal with it. And all without turning your brain to porridge. And don't worry about me, silly. I'm trained against Logrus infusions." Her fingers worked back along his skill to rest over his ears. Goran nodded and closed his eyes, breathing deeply in an effort to relax as Tear's fingers eased through his thick hair. "And if anything goes wrong with you, I'll make sure to care for you. I've dealt with one lump of useless flesh all my life. I can deal with another. Besides, you'd make a good bookend." Goran's eyes shot open and his brow quirked in alarm. Tear frowned despite her attempt at levity. "Ready?" "I do hope you were joking," Goran said flatly. He closed his eyes again, though this time he did not seem quite so relaxed. "Of course I was, silly," Tear whispered. "You're safe as houses. Now. . . steel yourself. This is going to feel a little. Weird." "Intellego Mentem," she muttered, summoning the Sign within. Having studied with Mandor, she knew to maintain a subtle, psychic profile as she worked; lest the strange powers within Castle Amber negatively react to her. A wave of exhaustion washed over her as the clots of darkness erupted from the veins in her wrists. The ichorous shadows pooled in her palms and then stretched out in gossamer-like strands towards Goran's ears. Liquid and alive, the tendrils slipped inside his warm body, burrowing deep into the grey tissue. Tear let out a sharp gasp as the tendrils began connecting with the network of neurons and synapses, linking their minds together. A swell of information and images bombarded her, nearly breaking her concentration. She muttered an arcane word and a wave of power sparked within her, sealing the psychic loop between them. ~Goran~ Tear said, her voice filling his mind. ~I need you to summon various memories for me. Ones that create a strong emotional response. Love, anger, happiness, despair. I'll need to map your declarative and procedural memory. That should help me understand your mental processes and see if there are any. . . glitches or holes.~ Before she spoke to him mentally, the tangle of thoughts that tumbled through Goran's mind consisted primarily of curse words in many languages. ~Don't know what order you want them in~ he shot back as the images flowed forth. Though Tear could tell he was trying to comply with her request to do this in an orderly fashion, his discomfort and nervousness caused images to flash at random. Everything she saw was in his own point of view, with his own emotions. Tear trembled with the exertion, her inner reserves already left behind in the storm outside. She muttered a Word of Power, using the quick boost of psychic energy to stabilize the link. It surprised her how similar the brain's activity resembled the Logrus, a chaotic system of parallel and interwoven connections. She studied with rapt fascination how Goran's brain processed each image and emotion as they were triggered. More importantly, she observed how his neural network functioned through the Logrus Sight, looking for any possible errors or magical influences in the coding. Walking agonizingly along a line on a smooth plateau that looked like mother of pearl, sparks flying up from around his feet... Seated on a beach holding a girl before him, fireworks flashing in the sky, he is joyous and uncomfortable at the same time... Playing a gusle in a small cafe, carefully watching a pretty dark-haired woman teach him the intricate finger work. Happiness as she sings in a sweet, clear voice... A sharp crack and that same woman, older now but still pretty, falls to the ground. The words "Run, Goran!" still ring in his ears. Despair. Goran winced under Tear's hands. Pain. Behind a wheel of some large moving object, pressing a pedal with his foot, hard. A man tries to stop him, but he falls down bleeding from projectiles released from a metal thing in Goran's hand. More pain. Tear can feel Goran force it back, fighting for something calmer, shoving these images back into a long-locked box in his mind. By now, tears stained the young sorceress' cheeks. As analytical as her observations might have been, she could not remove her heart from the intimate connection. She felt Goran's pain, his loss, and that translated into her own sympathy for this man whom she so desperately cared for. However, this mental struggle pleased her. She could see how his mind protected itself and, in turn, provided her a deeper perspective on its inner works and how it might defend against a foreign invader. She gave a little push, urging this new memory forward. Before the hearth at her own house, leaning over to kiss the dark-haired girl sleeping on the couch. Love. He squirmed under Tear's hands, uneasy at having let that memory slip through. "We should stop," he urged through gritted teeth. Tear gasped audibly. Of all the faces possibly connected to that emotion, she'd never considered to find her own. She began to retreat from it like a wounded animal. Only her extensive training prevented her from breaking the connection immediately and possibly harming them both. When the link finally collapsed, she shivered with poisonous exhaustion. But somewhere in her tiny body there still lurked enough energy to move with startling speed. Her little hand slapped across Goran's face; a weak blow, hardly a tap, but brutal nonetheless. "You @$$hole! How could you?" Her violet eyes blazed with anger and disappointment. Finally, her tired body succumbed to the strain and curled into a tight ball of trembling sobs. Goran shook his head and blinked hard, trying to recover from the disorienting feeling of having his brain mapped and the lack of transition afterward. "What... uh...," he stammered in confusion at her reaction, grimacing at the headache her probing had caused rather than the feeble slap. When he finally regained a semblance of sense, he rose and stalked away, only to turn back almost immediately. "I knew that was a bad idea," he growled, though his bright blush belied his annoyance. "What are you so upset about? I thought you /liked/ love?" Tear stiffly rolled over in the hammock, clutching the blankets to chin. Her eyes were puffy and red, the violet disappointment swirling like clouds in her irises. She sniffled, "I do you, jerk." He stared at her blankly, knowing he was missing something hugely important to her but having absolutely no clue what it might be. She glared at him for a moment, as if waiting for Goran to come to some sort of revelation. After all, wasn't it bloody obvious why she was angry and hurt? When he didn't, she grumped loudly, "Men!" As weak as a newborn kitten, she pushed herself up onto a flimsy elbow. "I'm upset because you didn't tell me about Vikund and Petra. If you love me. Then why didn't you tell me? You must have known. It all makes sense now that you did. Your weird moods. Your secret bitch-fests with Tanstaafl. The way you flinch every single time his name comes up. You knew. And you didn't tell me.” "Tear, I..." Goran began, but she cut him off. "And that hurts me more than anything you could have done. You let them /humiliate/ me. You let him turn me into some. . . whore." As she continued, Goran began to look guilty, but at that last word, his expression hardened. "No," he said, simply but firmly. Tear collapsed, brushing the wetness from her cheeks as if it burned her like acid. She closed her eyes, fighting for breath. Another rasping sniffle, "You could have told me. And then I could have. Gotten rid of him and been with. . ." Her eyes open, a dejected stare meeting his gaze, the name unspoken. Goran sighed heavily and dropped limply back onto the ottoman. He raked his hands through his shaggy hair and groaned before looking up at her. "I am not good at this, Tear," he said wearily, the accent of his homeland creeping into his voice as it often did when he was tired or emotional - or both. "I thought..." He sighed again, staring down at his hands as he fidgeted. "I don't know what I thought. You were so happy. And... and I guess I thought I'd come off as some spiteful... I don't know." He shrugged vaguely. "So I waited. And... and I watched. From a distance. And I guess I hoped that he would... make his own mistakes. Many times I thought I should say... but I put off..." he trailed off lamely, knowing he had no excuse. His fingers ran through his hair again, this time grasping there, his head resting between his hands in defeat. "I am not good at this," he muttered almost to himself. Tear listened from behind her crumpled shield of fabric and goose down, her violet eyes as cool as amethyst. In the end, the sight of Goran squirming on his hook brought a sad smile to her lips. Weakly, she reached out to him, beckoning him over. "You truly are an opesdol sometimes. But you're my opesdol." Seeing she needed assistance, he rose and helped her up. She let him help her up onto her arm, using a pillow to support her weight. But she did not let go of his hand, instead squeezing it tenderly. "I wish you'd told me sooner. And I wish you'd told me what you were. I wish you'd done a lot of things. But. . ." Goran's gaze dropped to the floor apologetically, but he remained silent. Tear raised his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles. "I learned something the last few days. After the threats and attacks and all that stuff. I realized that I could take care of myself. I faced down Prince Julian and my uncle and a crowd of angry revolutionaries. And with a knife pressed into my back, I might add. I got through those things. But whenever I truly needed someone's help, Goran, you were there. Not Vikund. You. Every single time." Her fingers squeezed his hand. "So, I guess, you were sort of right not to tell me stuff. You did it in a dolboy'eb sort of way. But, I think you were right to do it. I needed to see things with my own eyes. And, after all. . ." Tear pursed her lips, while shy eyes sought any thing to focus on other than Goran's gaze. "I've never told you how I feel about you, either." Tanstaafl made a sound suggestive of throwing up a furball. Goran chuckled at her assessment, completely ignoring the obnoxious fox-cat. He squeezed her hand back. "No, you didn't," he agreed, his eyes still lowered. "I guess we're both funny that way. "I don't know why you're so surprised about your own strength though," he continued, finally meeting her gaze. "It's always been there. In your persistence. Your determination. Mandor put you through flaming hoops for years and still you went back, over and over. Because he had what you wanted. Knowledge." He shrugged. "I guess adversity suddenly made you see it. Made you want to change your name because of it. But it's always been there. You've never been weak. Tear." The corner of his mouth quirked into a sly smile, challenging her with the name she had wanted to discard. Tear crinkled her nose at the name, but smiled in return; a sigh of relief escaping her tiny body. "Only you get to call me that from now on. I like it when you say it. But for other people. . . no. And I'm a Baroness. And thusly, must act and be treated accordingly. I have an angry mob now, you know." A smile shone in the corners of her eyes. He gave her an exaggerated bow. She lay down and gave a feline yawn. "You're right, by the way. About the knowledge stuff. And the other stuff too. But mostly the knowledge stuff. I think that's why the Duke scared me so bad. I could learn so much from him. But I won't give in to him. Not now. Not ever." Her hand left his, only to stroke his hair, a thumb brushing over his temple. "And your brain isn't going to explode. I didn't find anything in there. Well. . . magically speaking." Goran chuckled, but did not pull away from her hand. "You found enough," he snorted wryly, though he did appear relieved at that news. "I'm glad to hear that about the Duke too," he continued. "Amber wouldn't stand a chance if he could use you as a weapon. It's going to be hard enough to thwart his plans as it is." He sighed and shook his head downheartedly. "Even if you could gather all of us together, I'm not sure what we can do against him. We need bigger guns." Tear raised a brow at the mention of her becoming the Duke's 'weapon.' The idea apparently hadn't even entered her mind. Her brow furrowed as she listened to Goran talk, a nervous shiver passing through her. A pregnant silence grew between them. Her violet eyes sought his. "Goran," she said in a dark tone. "We can't kill him, you realize. He /must not/ be killed. No matter how tempting the prospect." Her hand squeezed his for emphasis. He held her gaze and did not release her hands. "Why not?" he asked levelly. Tear gave him a disbelieving look. In that brief instant, a shrewd cunning obscured the innocence in those normally gentle eyes. Something in her had definitely changed tonight. Perhaps forever. "His death would force the Emperor to respond," she said. "Indeed, I suspect he is the lure for the Emperor's snare. After all, the Duke is essentially the Emperor's comitem. To kill him would provide the Emperor with the perfect justification for wiping Amber out of existence. That may even be his true intention. Killing two birds with one stone." Tear knit her fingers with Goran's, petting the top of his hand. "We need to deflect the Duke's efforts. As well as have him fall from favor. Weaken his political ties somehow. Once we steal his power, he'll be much more easily disposed of. But until then, he is a walking invitation for war." "And what'll you do for an encore?" asked Tanstaafl. Goran snorted humorlessly at the fennec, but his thoughtful nod was for Tear. He seated himself next to her in the hammock, sighing and grimacing slightly. "I don't pretend to have any idea how to handle him," he admitted to her. There was a sense of defeat and weariness in his voice that she was certain he would not have shown in front of anyone but her. He looked older than she had ever noticed before. "Others have told me essentially the same thing. That he should not be taken on in a frontal assault. But I'm not a diplomat, Tear. You saw that," he winced at the memory of what he had inadvertently revealed during her probe. "When threatened, I become a blunt instrument. Beat it to a pulp and ask questions later. That won't work here." He wrapped her clasped hand in his free one, as if her touch would somehow provide answers. Tear snuggled closer to Goran, resting her head against him. Her fingers gently stroked his as he spoke, while her lidded eyes stared at their clasped hands. "Well, you could always beat up Vikund if it makes you feel better. It'd make me feel better, I think." Her lips curled in a mischievous smile. The smile soon faded. "You're not a blunt instrument, Goran," she said. "You're a brave man. Braver than anyone I've known. And I'll need your strength, if we're to pull this off." She gave a little cat-yawn and snuggled against him. "I may not be a weapon. But that doesn't mean you can't use me as bait. The Duke probably knows about me. About my connection to the Logrus. We can use that lure him in maybe." |
