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“Teodore,” Renata sing-songs. Your office door shuts behind her.
“Yes, my lady?” You raise an eyebrow from the work on your desk, but don’t look up. Gods, are you glad Undercommon is just a derivation of Elvish. This manifesto would be nonsense if you hadn’t had some understanding before your residency in Nadezrys became permanent. The captain’s request for parley was so full of triple negatives and deliberately misleading phrasing that you got a headache the first time you read it. Renata approaches your desk, lacquered nails clicking rhythmically on lacquered wood. Slowly, you lift your eyes from the paper, meeting her gaze directly. “...Yes?”
“It is customary in Nadezrys to stand when one’s superior enters the room,” she says, crossing her arms, lips pursed. “Particularly if she’s the Valsharess. You should know this by now.”
You don’t roll your eyes, but it’s a damn near thing. The skeptical look you give her is insolence enough. Her lip curls. You stand. At her pointed look, you step out from behind the desk, as well.
She still looks expectant.
“You can’t possibly be suggesting I kneel, Renata.”
Renata pouts, blowing hair out of her face.
“No, I suppose not,” she says. She adds, casual, “I could have you beheaded for that.”
There are several things you could say in this moment. You could have me beheaded for many of the things I do around here. Maybe You threaten that far too often. Or, the ever-bold, You’d miss my company.
Instead, you opt for, “You’d stoop to something so pedestrian? Really, highness, I’d expect a little more flair.” Renata laughs, shoulders relaxing, and you take this as your cue to return to your desk while she explains whatever it is she’s come to discuss. You, however, are wrong.
In the half-second where you look away, Renata moves, suddenly upon you, her eyes flashing. You barely have time to react as she pins you to the wall with a hand and elbow on either of your wrists, a knife at your neck, and her body against yours. You blink, surprised, but do not swallow with nerves. That would make your throat bob against the blade, and you’d much rather not bleed on this shirt. Her violet eyes bore into yours.
“Do you need something?” you ask, mild.
“Remind me,” she says, “what were the problems you initially brought to me about House Indestor’s collaboration with the Primordials?”
“Heresy, mostly. Attempt to spread worship of a being other than Lolth in Nadezrys and the Underdark beyond, primarily through the soul trade, mind control, and physical coercion. Why?”
“An itsy bitsy spider just told me that a close relative of Metore Indestor just got the… Drephos treatment, if you will.” You snort, nodding for her to go on. “She’s been growing bold. Send an Intelligencer to the House for a wellness check, won’t you? And a cleric alongside. Not from House Viraudax, I still don’t trust them. House Gwenllian, if available. ”
“Right away, my lady.” She still hasn’t broken eye contact. You don’t try to break her grasp, but try to move your arm as though you are. Her hand around your wrist tightens. Understood. “Anything else?”
Renata lowers the knife, letting it slide back into her sleeve, and releases your pinned wrist to cup your cheek. Your freed hand goes to her shoulder as her lips touch your neck just above the twin puncture scars. Your heart clenches involuntarily. It’s been months. She nips at them lightly, a reminder as pointed as her canines, a series of slow, purposeful kisses pressed against your skin.
“When do you return topside, again?” she murmurs.
“Next week,” you say, voice level. You turn your head slightly to give her more room. She grins, taking the opportunity. “Just for a few days. The porters are sending me directly to Braedonport.”
“To pay your heretic own devotionals?” She nips at your earlobe. You don’t shiver.
“To get a little sunlight before my meeting with the library.” You idly kiss her thumb. “And with the merchants’ guilds.” The nonsense on your desk needs returning-to. You doubt she’ll let you unless you say something. “If you’ll allow it, my lady, I must get back to my work. That expedition’s captain is requesting an audience. Should I grant it?”
“Depths, no.” You chuckle, unable to see how hard she rolls her eyes, but knowing it intrinsically. “It’s just going to be more fearmongering about the Scalesworn’s capacity for destruction or something. You know, despite their decimation. Ridiculous.”
Oh, you remember.
Renata pulls back, pushing a decisive kiss against your lips, thumb running over your cheekbone. You return it before she releases you, stepping back and allowing you off the wall.
“I’m expecting you for dinner tonight,” she says, gaze once again locked on yours.
“And you will have me,” you concede with a nod. Renata smiles like a spider watches whatever poor thing has stumbled into her web. You did not stumble. You came here willingly. It was all you could have done.
“Wonderful.” With a swish of her skirts, she sweeps out of your office, closing the door with a called, “See you then!” over her shoulder. You are left alone, once again, with your paperwork, correspondence, and thoughts.
You don’t bother to glance in the looking-glass before casting Prestidigitation; her lipstick always stains.