Jandar observed the darkest jeweled living person of all the Realms, very carefully observing his most minute expressions and actions. The Warlord’s breathing was mechanically slow and careful. The Warlord Prince, on the other hand, moved with ease and habitual grace. He was disgustingly smarmy, and Jandar couldn’t help but frown in distaste. Was this the man that he had admired and verbally defended for so long? Jandar truly hoped there was more to him than this...this superficial charm which barely concealed the thrum of danger underneath. Was it just the power that was misleading him or had SaDiablo truly appeared murderous? Was the Warlord Prince simply attempting to investigate an unknown Queen for Dorothea’s sake? However, if he was working for Dorothea, what in the Darkness’s name was he doing
here?
Whatever SaDiablo’s motives, he couldn’t let him endanger Fatima. Jandar situated himself firmly at Fatima’s side, glaring up at the blatantly more powerful man. He did not address the other male’s poor flirtation game, though he dearly wanted to - for Mother Night’s sake, Fatima was currently under the guise of an ugly hag, who in their sane minds would believe the words SaDiablo was spouting?! However, he had a more pressing matter to discuss.
“I will not be dismissed,” he stated, his feet firmly planted where he stood, shoulders squared and spine almost painfully straight.
“And we are certainly not here to cater to your amusement,” Jandar hissed in offence, baring his teeth in a scowl.
Fatima was understandably dazed as the man manifested from the black and took her hand. She stared up at him through the veil as she shuddered. Sweet death. A night's last kiss brushed the back of her neck. He was perdition wrapped in honey. Predator barely contained beneath a sheep's soft wool.
Jandar's words brought her out of the stupidity she had found herself dwelling. She pursed her lips with a wry smile and responded,
"Does it shock you all the much to have not seen this withered flower, left with no water beneath the shade of bushes? A well hidden, ugly thing that would make a wee babe cry? No, you will not have seen me… and believe that you still do not see." She withdrew her hand from his grasp with the realization that he was hers.
But she did not want such a dangerous beast.
The deadly man smiled a thing of seductive malice, his eyes glancing towards Jandar before turning back to the withered Queen.
”I see more than you would suspect.” Saetan hissed softly,
”Like those spells you have used to bind your cousin to you. Those spells that are curled about you in a Craft that should have never been twisted to Dorothea’s ambition.” Moving with an easy step, the taller man put himself between the pair and their exit.
”You play a dangerous game, Lady, and one that has been attempted before.” The malice in the room was palpable. If there was one thing that Saetan hated most of all it was a Black Widow spinning her spells over him as though he was so vulnerable to their Craft!
”Lady Laska was not expecting any visitors… Perhaps that would be all the better that she receives none? Unless you’d rather give my questions answers.” It was not the Black, but the birthright Red that leaned on Fatima. Pressing against the illusion and threatening to shatter it.
“She didn’t bind me, you dolt,” Jandar growled at the implication, bristling. Was that how the Warlord Prince perceived their natural connection, as some artificially created binding thing? If so, he was making quite the assumption. The Warlord narrowed his eyes as SaDiablo uttered the phrase ‘twisted to Dorothea’s ambition’. He wasn’t entirely clear what Craft he was referring to, though he could make a guess or two.
“If you are truly against things being in Dorothea’s favour, than what are you doing serving her interests?” Jandar hissed lowly, a clear undertone of contempt to his words. Since they were clearly already in danger, especially with how the Warlord Prince had blocked their exit, there was nothing to it but direct confrontation.
“You are the only one playing games here, Prince,” he accused in a murmur.
She could feel Jandar bristling, was certain that one wrong move would result in his death. She was afraid. The intoxicating man had them pinned and she was not strong enough to push him out. The violent caress of his Red against her visual protections made her stiffen. She pushed lightly back, not in threat or warning but imploring. Asking. Don’t do this.
Fatima took Jandar’s hand in her own as she stepped slightly forward but also in front of him. The back of her heel now rested at the front of his foot, beside the toe of his shoe. She held his hand tightly behind her back. If this came down to it, she was not about to let this man hurt Jandar. She would not allow him to mistake any of his movements as a threat.
Smiling politely, attempting to calm the rapid beats of her heart, she said
“I do not know how to play many games. They are group activities and no one likes to be reminded of what is ugly in this world. But, I will answer whatever questions I can. A girl likes to keep some secrets you know.” Her tone was playful but she knew the quiver of her fear peppered the notes of it.
He wanted to hate this woman, to not find her amusing as she smiled at his ire. As she shoved back against his the power of his birthright. Snarling softly at Jandar, the room dipped into an icy chill. Even Mikhail outside would feel the bitter bite of a Warlord Prince’s temper.
“Oh, I serve her interests do I? She would find that so delightful. That I was actually compliant for once!” Yet, even as he wanted to push the little ugly witchling aside and throttle the Warlord who challenged him, Saetan held himself back. Too desperate to unravel the puzzle that was this alluring spell and scent that wrapped about this woman. Moving forward, he drew slowly close to Fatima til he was but a breath away.
”Why don’t you retire for the time?” It was a question but not directed towards the Hyallians. The shopkeeper needed no urging as he slipped through the back. Wisely leaving his shop to the mercy of the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince.
“Now that we don’t have any visitors…” He tilted Fatima’s head up with a finger. His voice becoming soft and seductive.
“Why has a Hyallian Queen come to Shalador?” He whispered, using the little Queen as a buffer against Jandar. The Warlord was pricking his temper even as the Queen did with avoiding his questions. It would kill Saetan but he was a bit miffed she wasn’t fawning over him. Perhaps his time at Dorothea’s court had made him conceited.
Jandar blinked as Fatima took his hand in hers and frowned when she stepped in front of him, shielding him from the pissed of Warlord Prince. Really, he should be protecting her, not the other way around. Yet, he couldn’t help but acknowledge that he was still unharmed mostly due to SaDiablo’s interest in Fatima rather than any inherent tolerance on the other male’s part. Sensing the sharp, temperamental spark of the Warlord Prince’s power, Jandar paled, teeth clenching against a shiver that was attempting to set in. His fear did not cause him to miss the man’s words and tone, however, and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. SaDiablo had openly expressed contempt at the idea that he would willingly work for Dorothea. That could only mean whatever he did was
unwilling. And yet, Fatima had called him a beast and a queen killer when Jandar had asked her after him the day they’d met. Even now, the Warlord Prince was acting in a frankly disturbing predatory manner towards Fatima.
Jandar stared at SaDiablo, who’d moved to stand directly in front of
his Lady, who, in turn, was standing directly in front of
him. It was beyond awkward, in more ways than one. One of Jandar’s palms was still held within the Fatima’s, and he shifted the grip, so he held her more firmly across the whole forearm. Very slowly and very carefully, he raised his other arm into the air, palm facing outwards in the general sign of ‘wait, please’. He remained observing SaDiablo. Now that he was so close, Jandar recognized what had before seemed no more than an odd glint as a band of compliance. His cheek muscles twitched in realization, whole body tensing even further. A collar like that was used only on the worst of criminals, and yet, if someone like
Dorothea had put it on someone like Saetan SaDiablo...It was beyond suspicious, but did not make matters any clearer.
“Perhaps we should exchange information indeed,” he hissed, and lay the palm of his free arm that he’d raised on Fatima’s shoulder protectively. He was now securely holding onto her arm with both of his, and if it came to it, he could at least attempt to twist her out of the way of the other male. Such a precaution may ultimately be not needed (or what would be worse, turn out useless), but Jandar figured it was better than nothing.
“Our motives and goals in exchange for yours, perhaps,” he suggested, laying a thin veil of politeness over his outrage. Though whether he should be outraged at Dorothea, SaDiablo, or both, he himself did not know yet.
He had to cut right to the quick of things didn’t he? Asking for information she was not ready to divulge. She sighed softly as Jandar’s hand migrated up her arm. The Queen Killer was getting far too close for her liking and she had positioned herself in such a way that she could not easily escape from him. Trapped by her desire to protect one of her own. She twisted as the second hand rested on her shoulder, turning slightly into Jandar. Glancing up at him just to gauge his feeling on things, as if his tone of voice did not speak volumes, she swept back the veil to reveal the beautifully ugly face Faeril had created for her.
She turned her unhidden features toward the man. She watched to see if he recoiled. She wanted him to step back as if she were burning flame. Nothing could keep their countenance around so ugly a wench, right? Fatima flashed him one of her dazzling crooked smiles, something it seemed the charm over her could not hide, and said,
“I honestly don’t know why we are here.” She hadn’t been paying attention when they had been speaking earlier. Just that they were going into town and she did not want to be left behind AGAIN.
“Something called and I followed.” This was also true.
“I needed to be here and so… here I am. I think it had something to do with getting supplies maybe?” She twirled some frizzy hair in her fingers as she looked back toward Jandar. Oh boy was she going to get it later. That is… if they lived.
Having spent the majority of these later years around people who were far more ugly than this queen, Saetan didn’t flinch back as Fatima revealed her hideous face. The personalities of the queens he was forced to amuse were far worse than any physical deformity. His lips, however, twitched as he studied the queen.
”So you followed so naively into a town on a feeling for supplies.” He stated slowly, his golden eyes narrowing and losing a great deal of their chill.
”How curious that a visiting queen would need supplies.” Moving his gaze to Jandar he frowned slightly.
”I will remain quiet as to your being here, so long as you do not bring trouble to the people of this town.” There was no room for argument in his voice.
Jandar quirked a brow, who’d suddenly seemed to lose a great deal of aggressiveness. Was it a ploy? Or a genuine reaction to Fatima? The Warlord burned with curiosity as his gaze drilled into the powerful male. He tugged Fatima to the side and back gently, wishing to remove her from between SaDiablo and himself.
“Trouble?” Jandar questioned, slowly and carefully rolling the word on his tongue as if tasting something of dubious quality. He chuckled, and it was a bitter, sardonic expression devoid of any mirth.
“I do wonder what you would find troubling if not the already existent state of oppression and fear-mongering,” he continued mockingly, his smile a decidedly ugly, jagged thing.
“Oh, but I am sure your protection is more than adequate, keeping it all under control,” his tone was dripping sarcasm, and at his last word, Jandar’s gaze pointedly fell to SaDiablo’s band of compliance.
“No matter, no matter,” he sighed, obviously facetious in his sudden pleasant nonchalance.
“We shall not escalate the situation,” he stated truthfully, but couldn’t help adding one last dig:
“You can keep your peace and stability.” He inclined his head politely, though his expression was nothing if not derisive. Jandar was acutely aware on a distant, rational level that now that the Warlord Prince’s ire had cooled, he should absolutely not be still provoking SaDiablo, but seeing this man that he had once so admired - and of whom he still had the highest expectations - reduced to such a pathetic, pitiful position was
infuriating. And it was this fury that overwhelmed his better senses and drove him to lash out instead of hold his tongue.
Fatima looked at Jandar in disbelief as she was tugged back from between the two men. He seemed to be egging the man on, trying to start a fight. Now was most certainly not the time. Fatima lifted her foot and brought her heel down, pressing onto Jandar's toes. She doubted her weight would cause the man any harm but she did hope to remind him of their perilous situation.
"I think what my companion means to say is that we desire to bring no trouble to this place. Just to get what we need and get out. If anything it might be a help to infuse some coin into the economy here… though it may be short lived among the people." As she spoke, upon coming to the end of her sentence she could not keep the bitter sadness at the state of this world from her tone.
In a desperate hope to be more distracting and to bring attention away from Jandar, she moved away from the two men and toward the bookshelves. Her eyes lit over the tomes and dust as she brushed a gnarled hand over the spine of one of the novels.
"I have shared a bit of information with you. May I ask, what brings the Queen's Dog out to sniff about some old bound papers? Surely there are much finer items to be had than these."Saetan’s gaze became flinty again as he fixed it on Jandar, Fatima’s intervention saving the man from a taste of what the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince could do. As the Queen went about to look at the books, the room thawed slightly.
”Get what you need and get out…” Repeated the Warlord Prince with interest as he gave Jandar a warning look as he considered snapping the fool’s neck. Bristling under the insult of being called the Queen’s Dog the man glared at Fatima.
”A queen wrapped in illusions.” He answered coldly.
His attention turning to Jandar.
”You sound like you quite hate the Queens and their ways. Yet you prance about them just as I do.” Using the fact that Fatima was out of the way, Saetan struck. His power lashing out as he slammed the younger man into the wall behind them.
”And I think I have had enough of your games.” It would be a risk to himself, let alone the shop, as Laska would surely sense the use of his power in more than he was permitted to do. Still, Jandar had pushed him too far. Ripping away the spell that bound about the two, he smirked slightly.
”Your Black Widow is skilled, Queen. But her power is no match for the Black. Especially when she did nothing to safeguard it.”Jandar yelped as Fatima stepped on him, head whipping to stare at her incredulously. However, he swiftly realized how very inappropriate his own words and attitude had been. He inclined his head to his Lady, grateful for the intervention.
“I am around this one Queen only, and she is not a part of-” he began to answer, now definitely calmer, and genuinely cooly polite. However, before he could finish his vague statement, the Warlord Prince threw him into the wall across the room. Jandar had the time to consider that his power truly was dense, then his whole body met the wall - forcefully. The Warlord grunted, air wheezing out of him, a burning pain engulfing his back. At least his neck hadn’t snapped, and he had not fallen unconscious, though he was dizzy.
Jandar blinked his eyes open, not knowing when he’d closed them.
“A-apologies,” he gasped out, still out of breath.
“I deserved that,” he inhaled bracingly.
“At the very least.” He stepped away from the wall carefully, assessing the damage caused to his body. He was trembling, but he could stand.
“Forgive me…” the words once again fell still upon his lips as he registered SaDiablo’s intent, and his gaze snapped to the scene unfolding before him.
“Wait!” he couldn’t help but shout, but of course, it did not prevent anything. The Warlord Prince ripped apart Faeril’s illusion, destroying it, and revealing the beauty underneath the hag image she’d taken upon. Jandar stumbled forward, paler than ever, mind whirring. Fatima could not go outside like this, she’d draw even more attention. And what would SaDiablo do, now? He’d only discovered more mysteries that would surely pique his curiosity. Horrified, he slowly shambled closer, his flaring pain shoved to a corner of his mind.
“Prince, please,” his voice was rough, imploring.
“Don’t hurt her,” he begged.
She whipped around as Jandar was flung against the wall. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she swallowed heavily. Fatima gazed at the monster, her fear churning her insides to mush. The illusions fell away and the ugly farce she had been playing melted away leaving her naked - in a sense - before the man.
She lifted a hand to Jandar as he edged closer and made a motion bidding him to stop.
"You've won but surely you knew that would happen upon the start of this encounter. You've used your brute strength to hurt those weaker than yourself." She gestured to herself and Jandar.
"Congratulations. I'm so happy for you." Her words and face were stony cold.
"A big man indeed." She stepped away from the bookshelf and forced herself to walk confidently toward him. Every fiber of her being screamed that she should run, get away, don't go into the drooling jaws of the wolf. But she went.
"It may mean little to you, and of course I would have no way to keep you to your word. However, all I can ask is that you let my man go peacefully and the shopkeep live. Especially him, he has no part in this. In return I will give you everything I have. My money, my possessions, my life. I will go peacefully. You can keep me as a pet, feed me to the Queens. Whatever you like. But leave these men be." She clasped her hands together beneath her breasts and gave him her bravest, Queenly face. She did not feel brave though. She was facing a childhood nightmare, the monster who lived under her bed, the boogey man who would eat little girls who didn't behave. Well, perhaps this was the way it should be, all the misbehaving she'd done in her life. That thought made her want to laugh as she was sure she would be facing her death.
Jandar stuttered to a stop at Fatima’s gesture, petrified with disbelief at her words.
“No, not her,” he rasped.
“Whatever you are doing with the other Queens, leave this one alone,” he clenched his teeth, staring at the Warlord Prince. Now that Fatima had offered herself to SaDiablo, how could he possibly convince him not to take her offer? Quite simply, he couldn’t.
Saetan stared in startled shock at Fatima as the illusion was torn away to reveal the woman beneath. A woman who was startling beautiful. A woman who was berating him for attacking the offending fool who had insulted him one too many times. Yet even as she stood before him offering herself for the exchange of the shopkeeper and her man, he could sense her fear. Saetan had spent thousands of years reading people. But it was
he who was terrified. Now as Fatima stood before him without any illusion to shelter her, Saetan began to piece together the puzzle of this mysterious Queen. Of how the man had claimed she was not like the others. How he now pleaded for him to let her go.
Covering his mouth with a shaking hand, he grimaced at the obvious weakness. He wanted this Queen in ways he had not wanted another before. He
wanted to serve her. To protect her from the wickedness in the world. Hell’s fire, he wanted this to be part of the spell. A clever ploy by some Queen’s Black Widow, but it was no such thing. He spoke softly then. Unsure if he was asking for forgiveness for his actions or defending himself form an image he never asked for.
”And do what to the shopkeep? If you haven’t noticed, Lady, I was here first looking for a book. I wished to keep you away from the shopkeeper lest you decide to amuse yourself with him as Hyallian Queens are wont to do.” Bristling the man turned away and slammed his fist into a nearby shelf. The wood splintering and sticking in his skin as he pulled his hand away, rubbing the sore knuckles. How in the name of Hell was he supposed to deal with this?! With a Queen he was bound to in his heart being a Hyallian bitch? And if she really was different… How could he be sure? Hunching his shoulders slightly, Saetan snarled in a few languages some selective words that were not fit for polite company.
”And I would not ‘feed you to the Queens’. I do not dance to their pleasure more than I must for that bitch’s knife-point bargain. Even then I make sure they dance to my tune.” She frowned. He wasn't going to hurt the shopkeep?
"I just assumed… as you assumed." She winced when he punched the bookshelf.
"I'm sorry. Will you take my offer then? Let my man go?" She was hesitant, unsure. There was an air of confusion here she could not dispel.
"If I do as you ask?" She paused looking toward the ground.
"Will you kill me?" She whispered.
”Just go. I am not a thoughtless monster as you may think.” Snarled the Warlord Prince, stalking towards the door. Stiff with pain as Laska sent her power coursing through the band at his throat. A call for him to return and a promise of punishment for using his Jewels. A slave, after all, could not use a jewel.
"I… wait!" Just go? She hurried after him, placing a hand on his arm before she recoiled as if she'd touched hot metal. She hadn't meant to touch and to feel him beneath her hand had thrown her heart into wild disarray. After a moment of shock she said,
"You've taken my disguise from me. If you do not kill me here I will die out there."”And you will die if I stay.” Saetan growled in annoyance, even as his heart hammered from her touch and he desired more than that brief caress.
”Laska is calling me back you foolish girl. Ignoring it, ignoring her. You aren’t worth the pain that brings.”She took steps backwards, away from him. He was a beast, just as she'd always been told. She turned from him and instead went to Jandar.
"Are you alright? Can you walk if I support you?" She touched his arm and looked up into his face, worried. She should find the shopkeep, perhaps if she paid him well he could direct them out of the town discreetly.
Saetan stumbled to the door, cursing as he paused.
”Wait till night. The guards will be drunk and… entertained by then.” With that Saetan stumbled out the door and down the alley, forcing himself to walk as if nothing was wrong. As if nothing was strangling him.
“I can walk on my own, I should think,” Jandar answered Fatima distractedly. He’d been watching her conversation with SaDiablo and was still deep in thought.
“If we can get him to trust us,” he murmured, considering.
“If we remove his band of compliance, as debilitating as it would be…” he trailed off, not sure if he should have suggested doing so knowing the pain it would bring. However, there would also be significant benefits to the action, and he could not ignore them.
“He would no longer be forced to serve those undeserving. He is not an enemy,” he stated, entirely confident in his assertion that the Warlord Prince they’d met was not at all what he’d first appeared to be. The man was playing a role, and he’d revealed much to them. There was hope. First, though, they had to make it safely out of here.
“We should go back to the camp,” he said, tone brooking no argument.
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