Jealousy

“Sira.”

At the sound of her name, the young queen turned to regard its source, brows high and eyes expectant. The sight that greeted her made her smile, although the gesture was not reciprocated.

“Terrel,” she returned the greeting, despite knowing that the dark-haired man was actually demanding her compliance. The usual scowl that marred his handsome face deepened at her reply; he, better than anyone, knew when she was playing coy.

“Why is he here?” Direct, to-the-point–that was the Terrel she knew.

“Why is who here?”

“Sira.” She forced herself not to grin in light of his stoic agitation, schooling her face carefully as he himself had taught her. He was still scowling — he always scowled — but now his eyes had taken on a hard light that said his patience was growing short. Nevertheless, she made it her mission to exasperate him to the fullest; it was a sadistic pleasure she had retained from their teenaged years, spawning from the fact that he had no sense of humor.

“You are referring to Lord Korso.” Dangle the bait.

“Yes.” Wait for a few nibbles.

“He seems to be visiting.”

“Why?” Let the prey come to you.

“He has business with me.”

This time he did not deign to prompt her, silver eyes focused intently, demanding an explanation. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, but still she said nothing, watching that gaze darken to granite and his jaw tighten. To anyone else, he may have looked as he did any day, but she could see the spark of irritation light inside him; see his restraint for all but shaking the answer out of her like he had done when they were younger.

“His wife is pregnant.” Hook, line, and sinker.

A moment of silent confusion passed, Sira watching in satisfaction as the emotion flitted through his eyes, followed by realization that was quickly erased. Immediately the muscles in his jaw and shoulders relaxed, though he made not a sound or movement. “…Hm.” This time, she did grin.

“Why do you ask?”

Abruptly, he turned his back on her and started to walk away. The grin grew; she followed.

“I was surprised to hear the news, especially since the last time we saw Lord Korso was when… well, when he was my suitor, so you can imagine my surprise when he told me that he was married with a child on the way. At first I actually thought he might have been trying to court me again,” she rambled on, making sure to laugh heartily while she watched him out of the corner of her eye. His face was carefully controlled. “One does have to admit that the man is handsome–’devilishly so’, as Bree once put it. Any woman with eyes could see that! He has a refinement to him; that Prince Charming ’sweep-you-off-your-feet’ influence. Even though I turned him down, I have to admit that I was flattered when he first asked my hand at the time! He– Terrel?”

He had stopped mid-step and was half-turned towards her when she caught the look in his eyes. All color drained from her face, and with a squeak she attempted to run.

“Don’t–!” The plea came far too late as she was wrested, shrieking, backwards by one strong arm and promptly flung over a tunic-clad shoulder. As calmly as though he were carrying a sack of potatoes–and with as much regard–he retreated languidly into the castle with his burden. Still fighting against him, Sira could only fall into a fit of laughter.  

~ by eeratka on December 6, 2007.