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Dinner in the Master Informer’s house was a somewhat tenuous eventuality. With the man himself easily distracted by his work, and the children eating much earlier with the nanny, it was often hit or miss as to whether the lady of the house would find herself sitting alone at the long table in the dining room, her husband’s plate sometimes carried off to his study, or often as not, forgotten altogether.
Indeed, life with Cicero could feel a little lonely at times.
The man was not entirely without any common sense, however, long years of marriage gifting his already exemplary perceptive skills with a sixth sense as to when he needed to make a concerted effort to be present, and had he had been ignoring said sense for at least three days before it became too much, and the man himself arrived in the small, airy sitting room of their home before the allotted dinner hour. It had been a while since he and Elysia had spent such a length of time with one another without distractions, and Cicero had even made a cursory effort to look presentable. Or, it fell within his definition of the word, his wife had somewhat more exacting tastes.
Either way, he had cleaned the ink smudges off his hands, and changed into a chiton that did not have candle wax set and hardened over one of the cuffs. He’d dutifully popped into to see the children and read two pages of the treaty of Athenia to Idalia, swung Rastus around until the nanny told him off and then left her with the task of settling the thoroughly overexcited child for bed. Now he was reclining on one of the klines that bordered the fireplace, one leg kicked up, half-reading through a letter that had arrived for Elysia. It was nonsense twittering from one of her noblewoman friends, and he was bored by the second line, returning it to its place upon the small silver tray he’d lifted from and instead picking up a chalice of wine.
Since they had returned from the Argyis province, the master informer had been even more uncertain of what Elysia was up to, what her motives were in all this. So much so that he’d asked one of his best men to trail his wife, something he knew she despised. But with information that could be considered such high currency in her possession as well as his own, he worried about her safety.
He also was perhaps being more cautious since he had seen to the release of the gladiator, an act done mostly to irritate the Stravos Lord without possibly being identified as such. Much as he tried to ignore any dalliances Elysia would engage in, something about that conceited youth set his teeth on edge, and he worried that his wife was playing a game she didn't know how to win. Or that she didn’t even know the rules, for he knew that the Stravos abided by none. Sands were shifting underfoot, and Cicero had yet to determine which way things were going to fall. And where they should be standing when that happened.
Perhaps over dinner, they might discuss it, their conversation naturally edged around the issues that affected their city and friends. Elysia’s friends, really. Cicero turned his gaze toward the door where, as if summoned by his thoughts, his wife appeared.
“There you are,” he remarked with a press-lipped smile. “I was beginning to think I would have to dine alone”. He patted the seat beside him. “ A busy day?
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Dinner in the Master Informer’s house was a somewhat tenuous eventuality. With the man himself easily distracted by his work, and the children eating much earlier with the nanny, it was often hit or miss as to whether the lady of the house would find herself sitting alone at the long table in the dining room, her husband’s plate sometimes carried off to his study, or often as not, forgotten altogether.
Indeed, life with Cicero could feel a little lonely at times.
The man was not entirely without any common sense, however, long years of marriage gifting his already exemplary perceptive skills with a sixth sense as to when he needed to make a concerted effort to be present, and had he had been ignoring said sense for at least three days before it became too much, and the man himself arrived in the small, airy sitting room of their home before the allotted dinner hour. It had been a while since he and Elysia had spent such a length of time with one another without distractions, and Cicero had even made a cursory effort to look presentable. Or, it fell within his definition of the word, his wife had somewhat more exacting tastes.
Either way, he had cleaned the ink smudges off his hands, and changed into a chiton that did not have candle wax set and hardened over one of the cuffs. He’d dutifully popped into to see the children and read two pages of the treaty of Athenia to Idalia, swung Rastus around until the nanny told him off and then left her with the task of settling the thoroughly overexcited child for bed. Now he was reclining on one of the klines that bordered the fireplace, one leg kicked up, half-reading through a letter that had arrived for Elysia. It was nonsense twittering from one of her noblewoman friends, and he was bored by the second line, returning it to its place upon the small silver tray he’d lifted from and instead picking up a chalice of wine.
Since they had returned from the Argyis province, the master informer had been even more uncertain of what Elysia was up to, what her motives were in all this. So much so that he’d asked one of his best men to trail his wife, something he knew she despised. But with information that could be considered such high currency in her possession as well as his own, he worried about her safety.
He also was perhaps being more cautious since he had seen to the release of the gladiator, an act done mostly to irritate the Stravos Lord without possibly being identified as such. Much as he tried to ignore any dalliances Elysia would engage in, something about that conceited youth set his teeth on edge, and he worried that his wife was playing a game she didn't know how to win. Or that she didn’t even know the rules, for he knew that the Stravos abided by none. Sands were shifting underfoot, and Cicero had yet to determine which way things were going to fall. And where they should be standing when that happened.
Perhaps over dinner, they might discuss it, their conversation naturally edged around the issues that affected their city and friends. Elysia’s friends, really. Cicero turned his gaze toward the door where, as if summoned by his thoughts, his wife appeared.
“There you are,” he remarked with a press-lipped smile. “I was beginning to think I would have to dine alone”. He patted the seat beside him. “ A busy day?
Dinner in the Master Informer’s house was a somewhat tenuous eventuality. With the man himself easily distracted by his work, and the children eating much earlier with the nanny, it was often hit or miss as to whether the lady of the house would find herself sitting alone at the long table in the dining room, her husband’s plate sometimes carried off to his study, or often as not, forgotten altogether.
Indeed, life with Cicero could feel a little lonely at times.
The man was not entirely without any common sense, however, long years of marriage gifting his already exemplary perceptive skills with a sixth sense as to when he needed to make a concerted effort to be present, and had he had been ignoring said sense for at least three days before it became too much, and the man himself arrived in the small, airy sitting room of their home before the allotted dinner hour. It had been a while since he and Elysia had spent such a length of time with one another without distractions, and Cicero had even made a cursory effort to look presentable. Or, it fell within his definition of the word, his wife had somewhat more exacting tastes.
Either way, he had cleaned the ink smudges off his hands, and changed into a chiton that did not have candle wax set and hardened over one of the cuffs. He’d dutifully popped into to see the children and read two pages of the treaty of Athenia to Idalia, swung Rastus around until the nanny told him off and then left her with the task of settling the thoroughly overexcited child for bed. Now he was reclining on one of the klines that bordered the fireplace, one leg kicked up, half-reading through a letter that had arrived for Elysia. It was nonsense twittering from one of her noblewoman friends, and he was bored by the second line, returning it to its place upon the small silver tray he’d lifted from and instead picking up a chalice of wine.
Since they had returned from the Argyis province, the master informer had been even more uncertain of what Elysia was up to, what her motives were in all this. So much so that he’d asked one of his best men to trail his wife, something he knew she despised. But with information that could be considered such high currency in her possession as well as his own, he worried about her safety.
He also was perhaps being more cautious since he had seen to the release of the gladiator, an act done mostly to irritate the Stravos Lord without possibly being identified as such. Much as he tried to ignore any dalliances Elysia would engage in, something about that conceited youth set his teeth on edge, and he worried that his wife was playing a game she didn't know how to win. Or that she didn’t even know the rules, for he knew that the Stravos abided by none. Sands were shifting underfoot, and Cicero had yet to determine which way things were going to fall. And where they should be standing when that happened.
Perhaps over dinner, they might discuss it, their conversation naturally edged around the issues that affected their city and friends. Elysia’s friends, really. Cicero turned his gaze toward the door where, as if summoned by his thoughts, his wife appeared.
“There you are,” he remarked with a press-lipped smile. “I was beginning to think I would have to dine alone”. He patted the seat beside him. “ A busy day?
Perhaps when they were first married, there had been disappointments. Perhaps she’d entertained some sort of romantic notion that Cicero would be a little different at home than he presented himself in public. That turned out not to be the case. At least, mostly the case. Yes, she got to see his hair ruffled from sleep and his fatigue when he finally wandered into their room late into the night. She’d seen him smile genuinely and she knew about his adorable dimples just at his low back. But despite those, he was as much a distracted genius here as he was anywhere. She could no more depend on him to come to bed with her than to be at supper or even breakfast. Trying to get his attention was like trying to catch rain with her hands. To that end, she was forever receptive to him whenever he did get it into his head that he wanted either her affection or her ideas or even simply her company. Right at first she’d thought she could be cold and sort of prompt him through feminine punishments into spending time but she assumed he didn’t even notice because his behavior didn’t change. That required the change of tactics that she had since adopted which was to beam in his attention whenever he saw fit to bestow it, and to be content when he did not. There was literally no other way. And it worked for the two of them. It left her fairly satisfied with their life and she assumed he was because he never said he wasn’t.
Elysia rounded the corner into the room, her eyes on the book she was reading to prove to Lady Vasia that the woman was not the only one who studied things of substance, but she noted the change in the room at once without having to look up. A human had a certain presence that others could feel; it was that indescribable sensation of being watched and Elysia had it now. She stopped in the doorway, eyebrows rising as her book lowered and snapped shut altogether. “Cicero,” she greeted without a surprised inflection. Her tone was more pleased than anything, until he said “There you are,” with a tight lipped smile.
He patted the kline and she narrowed her eyes just the littlest bit at first, but came to sit with him. His question of how she’d spent her time, if her day had been busy, was what had her thinking that his desperate need for her arms wasn’t why he was here. Unfortunately.
“It’s not been as productive as it could be,” she hedged. Since he patted the kline, though, and he so rarely sat where she could get to him, Elysia smiled to herself, set the book down beside her, and shifted to lay with her head on his lap, looking up at him. Her hands rested on her stomach and her legs tucked gracefully up on the kline’s cushions. “And what’s brought you down here to me?” She was hoping it was something like ‘Elysia, we should copulate’ or even ‘I wanted a hug’ but it was probably something more like ‘I think I figured out the dead body and I want to go over it step by step’.
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Perhaps when they were first married, there had been disappointments. Perhaps she’d entertained some sort of romantic notion that Cicero would be a little different at home than he presented himself in public. That turned out not to be the case. At least, mostly the case. Yes, she got to see his hair ruffled from sleep and his fatigue when he finally wandered into their room late into the night. She’d seen him smile genuinely and she knew about his adorable dimples just at his low back. But despite those, he was as much a distracted genius here as he was anywhere. She could no more depend on him to come to bed with her than to be at supper or even breakfast. Trying to get his attention was like trying to catch rain with her hands. To that end, she was forever receptive to him whenever he did get it into his head that he wanted either her affection or her ideas or even simply her company. Right at first she’d thought she could be cold and sort of prompt him through feminine punishments into spending time but she assumed he didn’t even notice because his behavior didn’t change. That required the change of tactics that she had since adopted which was to beam in his attention whenever he saw fit to bestow it, and to be content when he did not. There was literally no other way. And it worked for the two of them. It left her fairly satisfied with their life and she assumed he was because he never said he wasn’t.
Elysia rounded the corner into the room, her eyes on the book she was reading to prove to Lady Vasia that the woman was not the only one who studied things of substance, but she noted the change in the room at once without having to look up. A human had a certain presence that others could feel; it was that indescribable sensation of being watched and Elysia had it now. She stopped in the doorway, eyebrows rising as her book lowered and snapped shut altogether. “Cicero,” she greeted without a surprised inflection. Her tone was more pleased than anything, until he said “There you are,” with a tight lipped smile.
He patted the kline and she narrowed her eyes just the littlest bit at first, but came to sit with him. His question of how she’d spent her time, if her day had been busy, was what had her thinking that his desperate need for her arms wasn’t why he was here. Unfortunately.
“It’s not been as productive as it could be,” she hedged. Since he patted the kline, though, and he so rarely sat where she could get to him, Elysia smiled to herself, set the book down beside her, and shifted to lay with her head on his lap, looking up at him. Her hands rested on her stomach and her legs tucked gracefully up on the kline’s cushions. “And what’s brought you down here to me?” She was hoping it was something like ‘Elysia, we should copulate’ or even ‘I wanted a hug’ but it was probably something more like ‘I think I figured out the dead body and I want to go over it step by step’.
Perhaps when they were first married, there had been disappointments. Perhaps she’d entertained some sort of romantic notion that Cicero would be a little different at home than he presented himself in public. That turned out not to be the case. At least, mostly the case. Yes, she got to see his hair ruffled from sleep and his fatigue when he finally wandered into their room late into the night. She’d seen him smile genuinely and she knew about his adorable dimples just at his low back. But despite those, he was as much a distracted genius here as he was anywhere. She could no more depend on him to come to bed with her than to be at supper or even breakfast. Trying to get his attention was like trying to catch rain with her hands. To that end, she was forever receptive to him whenever he did get it into his head that he wanted either her affection or her ideas or even simply her company. Right at first she’d thought she could be cold and sort of prompt him through feminine punishments into spending time but she assumed he didn’t even notice because his behavior didn’t change. That required the change of tactics that she had since adopted which was to beam in his attention whenever he saw fit to bestow it, and to be content when he did not. There was literally no other way. And it worked for the two of them. It left her fairly satisfied with their life and she assumed he was because he never said he wasn’t.
Elysia rounded the corner into the room, her eyes on the book she was reading to prove to Lady Vasia that the woman was not the only one who studied things of substance, but she noted the change in the room at once without having to look up. A human had a certain presence that others could feel; it was that indescribable sensation of being watched and Elysia had it now. She stopped in the doorway, eyebrows rising as her book lowered and snapped shut altogether. “Cicero,” she greeted without a surprised inflection. Her tone was more pleased than anything, until he said “There you are,” with a tight lipped smile.
He patted the kline and she narrowed her eyes just the littlest bit at first, but came to sit with him. His question of how she’d spent her time, if her day had been busy, was what had her thinking that his desperate need for her arms wasn’t why he was here. Unfortunately.
“It’s not been as productive as it could be,” she hedged. Since he patted the kline, though, and he so rarely sat where she could get to him, Elysia smiled to herself, set the book down beside her, and shifted to lay with her head on his lap, looking up at him. Her hands rested on her stomach and her legs tucked gracefully up on the kline’s cushions. “And what’s brought you down here to me?” She was hoping it was something like ‘Elysia, we should copulate’ or even ‘I wanted a hug’ but it was probably something more like ‘I think I figured out the dead body and I want to go over it step by step’.
So suspicious Cicero mused as he moved to make room for Elysia to join him. Though such subtleties as his wife’s thoughts and moods inevitably got shoved to the side in favour of whatever else the spymaster was engaged with, he was nevertheless practised enough at reading her when he wished to. When she settled with her head in his lap, Cicero’s hand came to stroke through her hair as he listened to her recount her day, which was uninformative to say the least.
“Must there be a reason to wish to spend time with my beautiful wife?” He said through a rarely seen smile because he knew that Elysia would baulk at the suggestion that he did anything without reason. Of course, those reasons often made no sense no anyone other than himself, but that was beside the point. He mused on how he wanted to begin the conversation he had scheduled.
“It has been a while since we dined together” he conceded then. “I’m interested to know what you have been up to since we returned from Aetea.”
His tone was still light as he went on but his hand paused in the gentle petting of her hair. “ I don’t mind you know, you having your pursuits. You know you have come to be very useful in my work over the years Elysia. But sometimes it would be good to know that your aims are aligned with my own”
Quietly said, but Cicero laid out without fanfare that which had been needling him for some time. His fingers resumed their carding through the lengths of her hair but the man was silent as he waited to see if she would speak right away, or if he needed to prompt further for her confessions to spill forth.
Without having been summoned to inform anyone of what they’d learned out at the Argyris estate, Cicero had thus far kept such information to himself. But he knew his wife had been keyed up about that visit, more so than he would have expected given the little he’d told her of her own theories. Elysia was sharp as a knife, he knew, so that it was no surprise she would draw conjectures of her own. He encouraged it even because it was interesting seeing where her mind would lead her. But she had been practically vibrating with tension that day, and he needed to know what she had gotten herself into.
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So suspicious Cicero mused as he moved to make room for Elysia to join him. Though such subtleties as his wife’s thoughts and moods inevitably got shoved to the side in favour of whatever else the spymaster was engaged with, he was nevertheless practised enough at reading her when he wished to. When she settled with her head in his lap, Cicero’s hand came to stroke through her hair as he listened to her recount her day, which was uninformative to say the least.
“Must there be a reason to wish to spend time with my beautiful wife?” He said through a rarely seen smile because he knew that Elysia would baulk at the suggestion that he did anything without reason. Of course, those reasons often made no sense no anyone other than himself, but that was beside the point. He mused on how he wanted to begin the conversation he had scheduled.
“It has been a while since we dined together” he conceded then. “I’m interested to know what you have been up to since we returned from Aetea.”
His tone was still light as he went on but his hand paused in the gentle petting of her hair. “ I don’t mind you know, you having your pursuits. You know you have come to be very useful in my work over the years Elysia. But sometimes it would be good to know that your aims are aligned with my own”
Quietly said, but Cicero laid out without fanfare that which had been needling him for some time. His fingers resumed their carding through the lengths of her hair but the man was silent as he waited to see if she would speak right away, or if he needed to prompt further for her confessions to spill forth.
Without having been summoned to inform anyone of what they’d learned out at the Argyris estate, Cicero had thus far kept such information to himself. But he knew his wife had been keyed up about that visit, more so than he would have expected given the little he’d told her of her own theories. Elysia was sharp as a knife, he knew, so that it was no surprise she would draw conjectures of her own. He encouraged it even because it was interesting seeing where her mind would lead her. But she had been practically vibrating with tension that day, and he needed to know what she had gotten herself into.
So suspicious Cicero mused as he moved to make room for Elysia to join him. Though such subtleties as his wife’s thoughts and moods inevitably got shoved to the side in favour of whatever else the spymaster was engaged with, he was nevertheless practised enough at reading her when he wished to. When she settled with her head in his lap, Cicero’s hand came to stroke through her hair as he listened to her recount her day, which was uninformative to say the least.
“Must there be a reason to wish to spend time with my beautiful wife?” He said through a rarely seen smile because he knew that Elysia would baulk at the suggestion that he did anything without reason. Of course, those reasons often made no sense no anyone other than himself, but that was beside the point. He mused on how he wanted to begin the conversation he had scheduled.
“It has been a while since we dined together” he conceded then. “I’m interested to know what you have been up to since we returned from Aetea.”
His tone was still light as he went on but his hand paused in the gentle petting of her hair. “ I don’t mind you know, you having your pursuits. You know you have come to be very useful in my work over the years Elysia. But sometimes it would be good to know that your aims are aligned with my own”
Quietly said, but Cicero laid out without fanfare that which had been needling him for some time. His fingers resumed their carding through the lengths of her hair but the man was silent as he waited to see if she would speak right away, or if he needed to prompt further for her confessions to spill forth.
Without having been summoned to inform anyone of what they’d learned out at the Argyris estate, Cicero had thus far kept such information to himself. But he knew his wife had been keyed up about that visit, more so than he would have expected given the little he’d told her of her own theories. Elysia was sharp as a knife, he knew, so that it was no surprise she would draw conjectures of her own. He encouraged it even because it was interesting seeing where her mind would lead her. But she had been practically vibrating with tension that day, and he needed to know what she had gotten herself into.
Oh gods. He was going to ruin her hair. His fingers...oh no…..she let it go. He rarely stroked her hair. At worst, she’d repin it. Relaxing a little, she looked up at him, narrowing her eyes at the smile. He was giving her what she wanted and that made her think there must be some sort of string attached. Not that she wouldn’t take it, of course. She absolutely would.
“Must there be a reason to wish to spend time with my beautiful wife?”
“For other people, no, but for you, yes,” she smiled up at him. “What is the reason? You may say my beauty again. I will accept that.”
“It has been a while since we dined together” he began and she’d already run miles ahead of what he was about to say. It had been too long and the ride to Aetea, their conversations with Aimias and Iris had made him realize time was short. That they needed to spend more time together. That Athenia was dangerous and that they needed to band together tighter, back to back, facing the world on two fronts and never, ever parting.
“I’m interested to know what you have been up to since we returned from Aetea.”
Elysia’s eyes slid away from him and along the ceiling, tracing the familiar cracks that would be repaired someday. She barely listened to him as he went on, telling her how he didn’t mind other pursuits. A nice way to say affairs, though affairs did indicate that they went on for some time, which they never did. They weren’t very interesting except for a time or two. The person she wanted still had his fingers in her hair, though they’d slowed and finally stopped as his deep voice droned on in a pleasant lilt that was always deceptively alluring. She didn’t react to his compliment of her usefulness. She wasn’t entirely sure she could feel her body at the moment.
”But sometimes it would be good to know that your aims are aligned with my own”
As if she ever did anything for any other reason.
Ok the ‘pursuits’ were for her own amusement but they didn’t matter. But that wasn’t what he was talking about. She didn’t breathe again until his fingers began trailing through her hair again and she tried not to think of the pins being worked further and further away until she heard a few ping on the floor. Though, that was calming. Something to focus on other than what she’d be forced to tell him. He already knew the gist of it, she was sure. He knew everything, but he could not know what she did not write down - what she kept locked away in the safety of her thoughts. Those were what he was in the dark about and she’d kept it that way, uncharacteristically, feeling that it was best he wasn’t bothered by such mundane things as life threats.
She swallowed as the silence lengthened between them and just as she opened her mouth to speak, a servant appeared in the doorway, saving her.
”Dinner is ready, Master Cicero. Mistress Elysia,” the man added as an afterthought. Elysia rose and immediately pulled all the other pins from her hair so that it tumbled down and was even. She hated it to be in disarray but since it was, it needed to at least be sensibly arranged. She fussed with it and stood, gliding away from the couch, only stopping to pick up her book that had tumbled to the floor.
“Dinner,” she trilled to her husband. “I’m sure what I have to tell you will be much more interesting with food in our stomachs.” And lots of wine in his cup.
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Oh gods. He was going to ruin her hair. His fingers...oh no…..she let it go. He rarely stroked her hair. At worst, she’d repin it. Relaxing a little, she looked up at him, narrowing her eyes at the smile. He was giving her what she wanted and that made her think there must be some sort of string attached. Not that she wouldn’t take it, of course. She absolutely would.
“Must there be a reason to wish to spend time with my beautiful wife?”
“For other people, no, but for you, yes,” she smiled up at him. “What is the reason? You may say my beauty again. I will accept that.”
“It has been a while since we dined together” he began and she’d already run miles ahead of what he was about to say. It had been too long and the ride to Aetea, their conversations with Aimias and Iris had made him realize time was short. That they needed to spend more time together. That Athenia was dangerous and that they needed to band together tighter, back to back, facing the world on two fronts and never, ever parting.
“I’m interested to know what you have been up to since we returned from Aetea.”
Elysia’s eyes slid away from him and along the ceiling, tracing the familiar cracks that would be repaired someday. She barely listened to him as he went on, telling her how he didn’t mind other pursuits. A nice way to say affairs, though affairs did indicate that they went on for some time, which they never did. They weren’t very interesting except for a time or two. The person she wanted still had his fingers in her hair, though they’d slowed and finally stopped as his deep voice droned on in a pleasant lilt that was always deceptively alluring. She didn’t react to his compliment of her usefulness. She wasn’t entirely sure she could feel her body at the moment.
”But sometimes it would be good to know that your aims are aligned with my own”
As if she ever did anything for any other reason.
Ok the ‘pursuits’ were for her own amusement but they didn’t matter. But that wasn’t what he was talking about. She didn’t breathe again until his fingers began trailing through her hair again and she tried not to think of the pins being worked further and further away until she heard a few ping on the floor. Though, that was calming. Something to focus on other than what she’d be forced to tell him. He already knew the gist of it, she was sure. He knew everything, but he could not know what she did not write down - what she kept locked away in the safety of her thoughts. Those were what he was in the dark about and she’d kept it that way, uncharacteristically, feeling that it was best he wasn’t bothered by such mundane things as life threats.
She swallowed as the silence lengthened between them and just as she opened her mouth to speak, a servant appeared in the doorway, saving her.
”Dinner is ready, Master Cicero. Mistress Elysia,” the man added as an afterthought. Elysia rose and immediately pulled all the other pins from her hair so that it tumbled down and was even. She hated it to be in disarray but since it was, it needed to at least be sensibly arranged. She fussed with it and stood, gliding away from the couch, only stopping to pick up her book that had tumbled to the floor.
“Dinner,” she trilled to her husband. “I’m sure what I have to tell you will be much more interesting with food in our stomachs.” And lots of wine in his cup.
Oh gods. He was going to ruin her hair. His fingers...oh no…..she let it go. He rarely stroked her hair. At worst, she’d repin it. Relaxing a little, she looked up at him, narrowing her eyes at the smile. He was giving her what she wanted and that made her think there must be some sort of string attached. Not that she wouldn’t take it, of course. She absolutely would.
“Must there be a reason to wish to spend time with my beautiful wife?”
“For other people, no, but for you, yes,” she smiled up at him. “What is the reason? You may say my beauty again. I will accept that.”
“It has been a while since we dined together” he began and she’d already run miles ahead of what he was about to say. It had been too long and the ride to Aetea, their conversations with Aimias and Iris had made him realize time was short. That they needed to spend more time together. That Athenia was dangerous and that they needed to band together tighter, back to back, facing the world on two fronts and never, ever parting.
“I’m interested to know what you have been up to since we returned from Aetea.”
Elysia’s eyes slid away from him and along the ceiling, tracing the familiar cracks that would be repaired someday. She barely listened to him as he went on, telling her how he didn’t mind other pursuits. A nice way to say affairs, though affairs did indicate that they went on for some time, which they never did. They weren’t very interesting except for a time or two. The person she wanted still had his fingers in her hair, though they’d slowed and finally stopped as his deep voice droned on in a pleasant lilt that was always deceptively alluring. She didn’t react to his compliment of her usefulness. She wasn’t entirely sure she could feel her body at the moment.
”But sometimes it would be good to know that your aims are aligned with my own”
As if she ever did anything for any other reason.
Ok the ‘pursuits’ were for her own amusement but they didn’t matter. But that wasn’t what he was talking about. She didn’t breathe again until his fingers began trailing through her hair again and she tried not to think of the pins being worked further and further away until she heard a few ping on the floor. Though, that was calming. Something to focus on other than what she’d be forced to tell him. He already knew the gist of it, she was sure. He knew everything, but he could not know what she did not write down - what she kept locked away in the safety of her thoughts. Those were what he was in the dark about and she’d kept it that way, uncharacteristically, feeling that it was best he wasn’t bothered by such mundane things as life threats.
She swallowed as the silence lengthened between them and just as she opened her mouth to speak, a servant appeared in the doorway, saving her.
”Dinner is ready, Master Cicero. Mistress Elysia,” the man added as an afterthought. Elysia rose and immediately pulled all the other pins from her hair so that it tumbled down and was even. She hated it to be in disarray but since it was, it needed to at least be sensibly arranged. She fussed with it and stood, gliding away from the couch, only stopping to pick up her book that had tumbled to the floor.
“Dinner,” she trilled to her husband. “I’m sure what I have to tell you will be much more interesting with food in our stomachs.” And lots of wine in his cup.
It was a careful balance, the flex and give that made their marriage work, and if Cicero were a man who cared about such things, he would know that people from the outside didn’t understand it. But his only concern was that it continued to work for them, and this...secrecy was a side he had not seen in his wife before. He didn’t care for it, there was no room for secrets when you were married to the master informer. Elysia knew this, and so he was irritated with her resistance to his probing.
She knew him well enough that she might notice it in the way his voice shifted, the steady and smooth timbre becoming crisper and more precise. Why she pursued in keeping her silence he didn’t know, she was only delaying the inevitable. If she wanted him to wait it out, he would, but he wasnt going to let her stonewall him on this. He would have answers from her, one way or another.
The arrival of the servant bought her a little grace, and Cicero lifted his fingers away from her hair, waved his hand as if to hurry her along, though she hardly needed it, almost leaping up and away. Unsubtle, sweetness
“What convenient timing” he said dryly as he rose to his feet, scooped up his wine and walked sedately after Elysia, slanting a sharp gaze toward her as he passed where she had paused in the doorway. “I do like stimulating conversation over dinner”
In the dining hall, Cicero ignored the place that had been laid for him, rejecting it for it left far too much distance between them and Elysia wasn’t going to hide behind the candelabra for this. No, he pulled out her seat, and then once she was settled, claimed the chair directly next to hers, down the side of the table instead of at the opposite end.
Quiet as the staff brought out salted fish and salad and good fresh bread, the man loaded his plate and began eating, forking up a mouthful and chewing, then another it, making some vaguely complimentary noises before he swallowed and gestured with the utensil as if he had just recalled they had been mid-conversation. “....what were we talking about? Ohhh yes. That’s right. Whatever it is you are playing at.”
The words were not tainted with the heat of anger, delivered just as easily as the “please pass the bread” that followed, though his gaze was a little harder where it settled upon his wife, and the air of expectation was heavy.
Cicero was mostly content to let Elysia do as she pleased, she was smart enough not to upset his work, and indeed made a very useful accomplice at times, but he was all too aware of the fragility of their city at that moment, and it was no time for the woman to decide she knew better than him. Taking a sip of wine, Cicero raised his brows at the continued silence. “Come, Elysia. It is not like you to play so coy”
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It was a careful balance, the flex and give that made their marriage work, and if Cicero were a man who cared about such things, he would know that people from the outside didn’t understand it. But his only concern was that it continued to work for them, and this...secrecy was a side he had not seen in his wife before. He didn’t care for it, there was no room for secrets when you were married to the master informer. Elysia knew this, and so he was irritated with her resistance to his probing.
She knew him well enough that she might notice it in the way his voice shifted, the steady and smooth timbre becoming crisper and more precise. Why she pursued in keeping her silence he didn’t know, she was only delaying the inevitable. If she wanted him to wait it out, he would, but he wasnt going to let her stonewall him on this. He would have answers from her, one way or another.
The arrival of the servant bought her a little grace, and Cicero lifted his fingers away from her hair, waved his hand as if to hurry her along, though she hardly needed it, almost leaping up and away. Unsubtle, sweetness
“What convenient timing” he said dryly as he rose to his feet, scooped up his wine and walked sedately after Elysia, slanting a sharp gaze toward her as he passed where she had paused in the doorway. “I do like stimulating conversation over dinner”
In the dining hall, Cicero ignored the place that had been laid for him, rejecting it for it left far too much distance between them and Elysia wasn’t going to hide behind the candelabra for this. No, he pulled out her seat, and then once she was settled, claimed the chair directly next to hers, down the side of the table instead of at the opposite end.
Quiet as the staff brought out salted fish and salad and good fresh bread, the man loaded his plate and began eating, forking up a mouthful and chewing, then another it, making some vaguely complimentary noises before he swallowed and gestured with the utensil as if he had just recalled they had been mid-conversation. “....what were we talking about? Ohhh yes. That’s right. Whatever it is you are playing at.”
The words were not tainted with the heat of anger, delivered just as easily as the “please pass the bread” that followed, though his gaze was a little harder where it settled upon his wife, and the air of expectation was heavy.
Cicero was mostly content to let Elysia do as she pleased, she was smart enough not to upset his work, and indeed made a very useful accomplice at times, but he was all too aware of the fragility of their city at that moment, and it was no time for the woman to decide she knew better than him. Taking a sip of wine, Cicero raised his brows at the continued silence. “Come, Elysia. It is not like you to play so coy”
It was a careful balance, the flex and give that made their marriage work, and if Cicero were a man who cared about such things, he would know that people from the outside didn’t understand it. But his only concern was that it continued to work for them, and this...secrecy was a side he had not seen in his wife before. He didn’t care for it, there was no room for secrets when you were married to the master informer. Elysia knew this, and so he was irritated with her resistance to his probing.
She knew him well enough that she might notice it in the way his voice shifted, the steady and smooth timbre becoming crisper and more precise. Why she pursued in keeping her silence he didn’t know, she was only delaying the inevitable. If she wanted him to wait it out, he would, but he wasnt going to let her stonewall him on this. He would have answers from her, one way or another.
The arrival of the servant bought her a little grace, and Cicero lifted his fingers away from her hair, waved his hand as if to hurry her along, though she hardly needed it, almost leaping up and away. Unsubtle, sweetness
“What convenient timing” he said dryly as he rose to his feet, scooped up his wine and walked sedately after Elysia, slanting a sharp gaze toward her as he passed where she had paused in the doorway. “I do like stimulating conversation over dinner”
In the dining hall, Cicero ignored the place that had been laid for him, rejecting it for it left far too much distance between them and Elysia wasn’t going to hide behind the candelabra for this. No, he pulled out her seat, and then once she was settled, claimed the chair directly next to hers, down the side of the table instead of at the opposite end.
Quiet as the staff brought out salted fish and salad and good fresh bread, the man loaded his plate and began eating, forking up a mouthful and chewing, then another it, making some vaguely complimentary noises before he swallowed and gestured with the utensil as if he had just recalled they had been mid-conversation. “....what were we talking about? Ohhh yes. That’s right. Whatever it is you are playing at.”
The words were not tainted with the heat of anger, delivered just as easily as the “please pass the bread” that followed, though his gaze was a little harder where it settled upon his wife, and the air of expectation was heavy.
Cicero was mostly content to let Elysia do as she pleased, she was smart enough not to upset his work, and indeed made a very useful accomplice at times, but he was all too aware of the fragility of their city at that moment, and it was no time for the woman to decide she knew better than him. Taking a sip of wine, Cicero raised his brows at the continued silence. “Come, Elysia. It is not like you to play so coy”
The way he rose from the couch and followed after her made her spine tingle. As much as he hated when she kept secrets from him, she hated to keep them. Perhaps if they remained secret, that would be something she could live with but nothing, nothing was hidden from him forever. Usually she lived her life in such a way as to have no need to hide anything from him. If the results she’d wanted from her little tryst had happened, she’d have flitted straight into Cicero’s office and laid everything out for him, proud to have been of use. But there was no use. Nothing had come of it and she felt little more than shame and failure as a result. It was a harsh lesson that she was having the utmost trouble accepting.
She walked into the dining room with her hand pressed lightly against her stomach, still trying to pretend that there was some way to get through this evening where they could go back to the way life was before he’d asked her questions; in short, ignoring problems and everything was fine. Cicero was a tall, slim man but his presence could dominate a room in a way she’d rarely seen. It was impossible to ignore him. Aware of his every breath, every movement, she was relieved once she reached her chair. There would now be space between them because, of course, custom dictated that she sat in her seat and he in his. The table would act as a shield, or the candles even. Perhaps she could angle herself behind the tall vase of flowers.
Cicero performed his next most shocking trick of the evening; he sat next to her. Elysia’s eyes slid towards him but she offered him nothing except her beautiful profile. Oh. The servants placed a plate and utensils in front of their master and Elysia reached for her wine, eyes straight ahead, thoughts scrambling over each other. But she was already caught. If he was going to this amount of trouble to get her to tell him something, she strongly suspected he had the broader picture and was looking to her to fill in the finer details; he wanted his complete painting of the events.
Elysia was rarely on the receiving end of Cicero’s more intense moments. Or, at least, she usually felt better prepared to handle them. She didn’t usually have such a personal stake and so when he used the delay tactic to lull her, she looked down into her cup by the time he spoke to find it empty. Oh dear. It appeared she was going to be in for a tipsy evening.
“....what were we talking about? Ohhh yes. That’s right. Whatever it is you are playing at.”
“This wine is delicious-” left her mouth before she could really consider anything about the statement. It was juvenile and beneath her but she was holding her glass up for the servant to refill and then slumping back in her chair, holding the now full glass to her chest as Cicero chided her.
“Come, Elysia. It is not like you to play so coy.”
“Usually I am not so stupid,” she murmured. But he was right and she straightened up in her chair. Another couple of swallows for liquid courage and then she was telling him the entirety of it. She told him that Elias had come to see him and what had followed afterwards. She hardly needed to add that the entire thing was a little hot and a little revolting - steering steeply more into revolting the longer it went on. She told him she let the seduction happen because she was curious, because Elias had intimated that Cicero’s position was on the line, because she assumed she might be able to control Elias. The last part was the most important and the one she’d been failing to do.
Instead, Elias had proved to be more of a wastrel and moron than she’d given him credit for. He had such a low sense of self preservation and such a lack of morals that it was difficult to make him care. It seemed like the closer she got to Elias, the more Cicero was in danger unless she did what Elias wanted and she had not told Cicero until this moment because she had been entirely sure she could salvage the situation and she didn’t want him to look at her the way he did other people; like they were idiots. And she knew for a fact she deserved that look right now. The problem was she wasn’t brave enough to face it and so she kept her face pointed in the opposite direction after she was done speaking, sipping her wine and now contemplating if she was going to be able to slosh her way up the stairs.
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The way he rose from the couch and followed after her made her spine tingle. As much as he hated when she kept secrets from him, she hated to keep them. Perhaps if they remained secret, that would be something she could live with but nothing, nothing was hidden from him forever. Usually she lived her life in such a way as to have no need to hide anything from him. If the results she’d wanted from her little tryst had happened, she’d have flitted straight into Cicero’s office and laid everything out for him, proud to have been of use. But there was no use. Nothing had come of it and she felt little more than shame and failure as a result. It was a harsh lesson that she was having the utmost trouble accepting.
She walked into the dining room with her hand pressed lightly against her stomach, still trying to pretend that there was some way to get through this evening where they could go back to the way life was before he’d asked her questions; in short, ignoring problems and everything was fine. Cicero was a tall, slim man but his presence could dominate a room in a way she’d rarely seen. It was impossible to ignore him. Aware of his every breath, every movement, she was relieved once she reached her chair. There would now be space between them because, of course, custom dictated that she sat in her seat and he in his. The table would act as a shield, or the candles even. Perhaps she could angle herself behind the tall vase of flowers.
Cicero performed his next most shocking trick of the evening; he sat next to her. Elysia’s eyes slid towards him but she offered him nothing except her beautiful profile. Oh. The servants placed a plate and utensils in front of their master and Elysia reached for her wine, eyes straight ahead, thoughts scrambling over each other. But she was already caught. If he was going to this amount of trouble to get her to tell him something, she strongly suspected he had the broader picture and was looking to her to fill in the finer details; he wanted his complete painting of the events.
Elysia was rarely on the receiving end of Cicero’s more intense moments. Or, at least, she usually felt better prepared to handle them. She didn’t usually have such a personal stake and so when he used the delay tactic to lull her, she looked down into her cup by the time he spoke to find it empty. Oh dear. It appeared she was going to be in for a tipsy evening.
“....what were we talking about? Ohhh yes. That’s right. Whatever it is you are playing at.”
“This wine is delicious-” left her mouth before she could really consider anything about the statement. It was juvenile and beneath her but she was holding her glass up for the servant to refill and then slumping back in her chair, holding the now full glass to her chest as Cicero chided her.
“Come, Elysia. It is not like you to play so coy.”
“Usually I am not so stupid,” she murmured. But he was right and she straightened up in her chair. Another couple of swallows for liquid courage and then she was telling him the entirety of it. She told him that Elias had come to see him and what had followed afterwards. She hardly needed to add that the entire thing was a little hot and a little revolting - steering steeply more into revolting the longer it went on. She told him she let the seduction happen because she was curious, because Elias had intimated that Cicero’s position was on the line, because she assumed she might be able to control Elias. The last part was the most important and the one she’d been failing to do.
Instead, Elias had proved to be more of a wastrel and moron than she’d given him credit for. He had such a low sense of self preservation and such a lack of morals that it was difficult to make him care. It seemed like the closer she got to Elias, the more Cicero was in danger unless she did what Elias wanted and she had not told Cicero until this moment because she had been entirely sure she could salvage the situation and she didn’t want him to look at her the way he did other people; like they were idiots. And she knew for a fact she deserved that look right now. The problem was she wasn’t brave enough to face it and so she kept her face pointed in the opposite direction after she was done speaking, sipping her wine and now contemplating if she was going to be able to slosh her way up the stairs.
The way he rose from the couch and followed after her made her spine tingle. As much as he hated when she kept secrets from him, she hated to keep them. Perhaps if they remained secret, that would be something she could live with but nothing, nothing was hidden from him forever. Usually she lived her life in such a way as to have no need to hide anything from him. If the results she’d wanted from her little tryst had happened, she’d have flitted straight into Cicero’s office and laid everything out for him, proud to have been of use. But there was no use. Nothing had come of it and she felt little more than shame and failure as a result. It was a harsh lesson that she was having the utmost trouble accepting.
She walked into the dining room with her hand pressed lightly against her stomach, still trying to pretend that there was some way to get through this evening where they could go back to the way life was before he’d asked her questions; in short, ignoring problems and everything was fine. Cicero was a tall, slim man but his presence could dominate a room in a way she’d rarely seen. It was impossible to ignore him. Aware of his every breath, every movement, she was relieved once she reached her chair. There would now be space between them because, of course, custom dictated that she sat in her seat and he in his. The table would act as a shield, or the candles even. Perhaps she could angle herself behind the tall vase of flowers.
Cicero performed his next most shocking trick of the evening; he sat next to her. Elysia’s eyes slid towards him but she offered him nothing except her beautiful profile. Oh. The servants placed a plate and utensils in front of their master and Elysia reached for her wine, eyes straight ahead, thoughts scrambling over each other. But she was already caught. If he was going to this amount of trouble to get her to tell him something, she strongly suspected he had the broader picture and was looking to her to fill in the finer details; he wanted his complete painting of the events.
Elysia was rarely on the receiving end of Cicero’s more intense moments. Or, at least, she usually felt better prepared to handle them. She didn’t usually have such a personal stake and so when he used the delay tactic to lull her, she looked down into her cup by the time he spoke to find it empty. Oh dear. It appeared she was going to be in for a tipsy evening.
“....what were we talking about? Ohhh yes. That’s right. Whatever it is you are playing at.”
“This wine is delicious-” left her mouth before she could really consider anything about the statement. It was juvenile and beneath her but she was holding her glass up for the servant to refill and then slumping back in her chair, holding the now full glass to her chest as Cicero chided her.
“Come, Elysia. It is not like you to play so coy.”
“Usually I am not so stupid,” she murmured. But he was right and she straightened up in her chair. Another couple of swallows for liquid courage and then she was telling him the entirety of it. She told him that Elias had come to see him and what had followed afterwards. She hardly needed to add that the entire thing was a little hot and a little revolting - steering steeply more into revolting the longer it went on. She told him she let the seduction happen because she was curious, because Elias had intimated that Cicero’s position was on the line, because she assumed she might be able to control Elias. The last part was the most important and the one she’d been failing to do.
Instead, Elias had proved to be more of a wastrel and moron than she’d given him credit for. He had such a low sense of self preservation and such a lack of morals that it was difficult to make him care. It seemed like the closer she got to Elias, the more Cicero was in danger unless she did what Elias wanted and she had not told Cicero until this moment because she had been entirely sure she could salvage the situation and she didn’t want him to look at her the way he did other people; like they were idiots. And she knew for a fact she deserved that look right now. The problem was she wasn’t brave enough to face it and so she kept her face pointed in the opposite direction after she was done speaking, sipping her wine and now contemplating if she was going to be able to slosh her way up the stairs.
Cicero did not press any further. He’d done enough, said enough and if they needed to sit here all night for Elysis to start talking then they would. He was much more content in silence than she was, he knew who’d break first. At the muttered admission of stupidity, the man tilted his head to the side as he ate, a gesture that did not refute her words but did not add any weight of condemnation either. Whether it would follow remained to be seen.
As Elysia finally broke her silence on the subject that had been needling him for weeks, for the most part, Cicero appeared as if he were not even listening. He forked up his food with brisk efficiency, and had she not known him so well, Elysia might have thought him uninterested. But years of life with the man had given her some insight into his tells too, and though he barely glanced at her as she spoke, he was most certainly paying attention. The manner in which his grip on the utensils he ate with grew tighter in parts, the slightest thud of the wine chalice as he returned into the table. For a man so deliberate in his actions when he wished to be, these small signs of irritation were as brash as if he were yelling.
Cicero could not claim to be surprised by any of what she’d revealed to him. His suspicions had led him to connect a few dots of his own along the way, but for once he did not glean the customary satisfaction from being proven right. Lord Elias had slid his oil-like presence into the master informer’s private life, and that was not a thing he enjoyed. That Elysia had acted of out some misguided attempt o protect him was some minor comfort, Cicero supposed as he pressed the corner of a linen cloth to his mouth before setting it down once more. That she had not come to him sooner was infuriating.
“ It would have been helpful if you had owned your mistake and if we’d had this conversation prior to this point in time, Elysia” He finally looked at her, sitting back in his seat and gazing at her in that cool, assessing way that he had. She did not meet his gaze, and so he sighed quietly, a minor expression of his frustration. “Stop acting like a child. What has happened is done and cannot be undone. What we must consider now is how we move forward”
Because though he might be irritated, enraged even at the idea that the insipid little Lordling had thought to use her so, Elysia and Cicero were still very much a ‘we’. There would be nothing to gain in playing into the hands of the man by letting his - and her- silliness divide them. “Did he take you into his confidence at all during this...dalliance of yours?” Cicero asked, reaching over to settle his long fingers at the nape of her neck. Possesively, almost. “You might have made a mess, but perhaps we can still salvage something useful from it”
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Cicero did not press any further. He’d done enough, said enough and if they needed to sit here all night for Elysis to start talking then they would. He was much more content in silence than she was, he knew who’d break first. At the muttered admission of stupidity, the man tilted his head to the side as he ate, a gesture that did not refute her words but did not add any weight of condemnation either. Whether it would follow remained to be seen.
As Elysia finally broke her silence on the subject that had been needling him for weeks, for the most part, Cicero appeared as if he were not even listening. He forked up his food with brisk efficiency, and had she not known him so well, Elysia might have thought him uninterested. But years of life with the man had given her some insight into his tells too, and though he barely glanced at her as she spoke, he was most certainly paying attention. The manner in which his grip on the utensils he ate with grew tighter in parts, the slightest thud of the wine chalice as he returned into the table. For a man so deliberate in his actions when he wished to be, these small signs of irritation were as brash as if he were yelling.
Cicero could not claim to be surprised by any of what she’d revealed to him. His suspicions had led him to connect a few dots of his own along the way, but for once he did not glean the customary satisfaction from being proven right. Lord Elias had slid his oil-like presence into the master informer’s private life, and that was not a thing he enjoyed. That Elysia had acted of out some misguided attempt o protect him was some minor comfort, Cicero supposed as he pressed the corner of a linen cloth to his mouth before setting it down once more. That she had not come to him sooner was infuriating.
“ It would have been helpful if you had owned your mistake and if we’d had this conversation prior to this point in time, Elysia” He finally looked at her, sitting back in his seat and gazing at her in that cool, assessing way that he had. She did not meet his gaze, and so he sighed quietly, a minor expression of his frustration. “Stop acting like a child. What has happened is done and cannot be undone. What we must consider now is how we move forward”
Because though he might be irritated, enraged even at the idea that the insipid little Lordling had thought to use her so, Elysia and Cicero were still very much a ‘we’. There would be nothing to gain in playing into the hands of the man by letting his - and her- silliness divide them. “Did he take you into his confidence at all during this...dalliance of yours?” Cicero asked, reaching over to settle his long fingers at the nape of her neck. Possesively, almost. “You might have made a mess, but perhaps we can still salvage something useful from it”
Cicero did not press any further. He’d done enough, said enough and if they needed to sit here all night for Elysis to start talking then they would. He was much more content in silence than she was, he knew who’d break first. At the muttered admission of stupidity, the man tilted his head to the side as he ate, a gesture that did not refute her words but did not add any weight of condemnation either. Whether it would follow remained to be seen.
As Elysia finally broke her silence on the subject that had been needling him for weeks, for the most part, Cicero appeared as if he were not even listening. He forked up his food with brisk efficiency, and had she not known him so well, Elysia might have thought him uninterested. But years of life with the man had given her some insight into his tells too, and though he barely glanced at her as she spoke, he was most certainly paying attention. The manner in which his grip on the utensils he ate with grew tighter in parts, the slightest thud of the wine chalice as he returned into the table. For a man so deliberate in his actions when he wished to be, these small signs of irritation were as brash as if he were yelling.
Cicero could not claim to be surprised by any of what she’d revealed to him. His suspicions had led him to connect a few dots of his own along the way, but for once he did not glean the customary satisfaction from being proven right. Lord Elias had slid his oil-like presence into the master informer’s private life, and that was not a thing he enjoyed. That Elysia had acted of out some misguided attempt o protect him was some minor comfort, Cicero supposed as he pressed the corner of a linen cloth to his mouth before setting it down once more. That she had not come to him sooner was infuriating.
“ It would have been helpful if you had owned your mistake and if we’d had this conversation prior to this point in time, Elysia” He finally looked at her, sitting back in his seat and gazing at her in that cool, assessing way that he had. She did not meet his gaze, and so he sighed quietly, a minor expression of his frustration. “Stop acting like a child. What has happened is done and cannot be undone. What we must consider now is how we move forward”
Because though he might be irritated, enraged even at the idea that the insipid little Lordling had thought to use her so, Elysia and Cicero were still very much a ‘we’. There would be nothing to gain in playing into the hands of the man by letting his - and her- silliness divide them. “Did he take you into his confidence at all during this...dalliance of yours?” Cicero asked, reaching over to settle his long fingers at the nape of her neck. Possesively, almost. “You might have made a mess, but perhaps we can still salvage something useful from it”
She let the wine slip over her tongue but she didn’t taste it. She merely held it in her mouth while she listened to him scrape his utensil against the plate a little too hard and set his glass down with an uncharacteristic thump. What she didn’t do was flinch. His anger was acceptable. Necessary. Completely rational. She had been the very thing he despised; stupid. That was probably the worst bit of any of this - that she’d failed. If she had been successful, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. It’d be a lot more productive and she would be able to sit here feeling no shame whatsoever. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how things had turned out.
“It would have been helpful if you had owned your mistake and if we’d had this conversation prior to this point in time, Elysia.” His voice was a low rumble in his chest, deep and dark and soothing in most cases. She could listen to him speak for hours about anything.
“It would have,” she agreed in a not quite hollow voice. As much as she’d have liked to be completely contrite, it wasn’t in her nature. She was prevented from complete and total despair by the firm belief that she’d done as well as could be expected. Elias just happened to be unusually ill-equipped to understand his own precarious situation. She had understood it far better and sought some sort of alliance and if he’d understood the game at all he’d have played. As it stood, he was less like a cunning serpent and more like a confused, angry bull, raging through Athenia and bashing his horns against things at random.
“Stop acting like a child. What has happened is done and cannot be undone. What we must consider now is how we move forward.”
Her brown eyes flashed at him, irritation flashing for the first time. He was right, of course. As usual. But she did not have to appreciate him being quite so direct in this exact instance. His eyes zeroed in on her and she lifted her chin at him, cradling her wine glass to her breast. There was no defiance there. Simply an indication that she was listening to him and he finally answered her unasked question of what he would do now with one of his own.
“Did he take you into his confidence at all during this...dalliance of yours? You might have made a mess, but perhaps we can still salvage something useful from it” His long fingers wrapped around the back of her neck and she leaned back into his touch, her eyes sliding closed in unhidden relief.
“He did,” she opened her eyes again and set down her wine. “But nothing too terribly useful. I gleaned more from what he did not say. He has several lovers in court, as we well know. Lord Rafail is complicit in Lord Elias’s plans. Nothing we couldn’t have guessed but it’s all hard to prove.”
As loathe as she was to part from his touch, she leaned her forearm on the table, eyes sliding to the wall across from them and chewed on her thumbnail as she thought. “He’s not intelligent,” she told Cicero seriously. “But he is dangerous and I think he is planning to simply starve Athenia into submission, so that they are too hungry to riot.”
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She let the wine slip over her tongue but she didn’t taste it. She merely held it in her mouth while she listened to him scrape his utensil against the plate a little too hard and set his glass down with an uncharacteristic thump. What she didn’t do was flinch. His anger was acceptable. Necessary. Completely rational. She had been the very thing he despised; stupid. That was probably the worst bit of any of this - that she’d failed. If she had been successful, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. It’d be a lot more productive and she would be able to sit here feeling no shame whatsoever. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how things had turned out.
“It would have been helpful if you had owned your mistake and if we’d had this conversation prior to this point in time, Elysia.” His voice was a low rumble in his chest, deep and dark and soothing in most cases. She could listen to him speak for hours about anything.
“It would have,” she agreed in a not quite hollow voice. As much as she’d have liked to be completely contrite, it wasn’t in her nature. She was prevented from complete and total despair by the firm belief that she’d done as well as could be expected. Elias just happened to be unusually ill-equipped to understand his own precarious situation. She had understood it far better and sought some sort of alliance and if he’d understood the game at all he’d have played. As it stood, he was less like a cunning serpent and more like a confused, angry bull, raging through Athenia and bashing his horns against things at random.
“Stop acting like a child. What has happened is done and cannot be undone. What we must consider now is how we move forward.”
Her brown eyes flashed at him, irritation flashing for the first time. He was right, of course. As usual. But she did not have to appreciate him being quite so direct in this exact instance. His eyes zeroed in on her and she lifted her chin at him, cradling her wine glass to her breast. There was no defiance there. Simply an indication that she was listening to him and he finally answered her unasked question of what he would do now with one of his own.
“Did he take you into his confidence at all during this...dalliance of yours? You might have made a mess, but perhaps we can still salvage something useful from it” His long fingers wrapped around the back of her neck and she leaned back into his touch, her eyes sliding closed in unhidden relief.
“He did,” she opened her eyes again and set down her wine. “But nothing too terribly useful. I gleaned more from what he did not say. He has several lovers in court, as we well know. Lord Rafail is complicit in Lord Elias’s plans. Nothing we couldn’t have guessed but it’s all hard to prove.”
As loathe as she was to part from his touch, she leaned her forearm on the table, eyes sliding to the wall across from them and chewed on her thumbnail as she thought. “He’s not intelligent,” she told Cicero seriously. “But he is dangerous and I think he is planning to simply starve Athenia into submission, so that they are too hungry to riot.”
She let the wine slip over her tongue but she didn’t taste it. She merely held it in her mouth while she listened to him scrape his utensil against the plate a little too hard and set his glass down with an uncharacteristic thump. What she didn’t do was flinch. His anger was acceptable. Necessary. Completely rational. She had been the very thing he despised; stupid. That was probably the worst bit of any of this - that she’d failed. If she had been successful, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. It’d be a lot more productive and she would be able to sit here feeling no shame whatsoever. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how things had turned out.
“It would have been helpful if you had owned your mistake and if we’d had this conversation prior to this point in time, Elysia.” His voice was a low rumble in his chest, deep and dark and soothing in most cases. She could listen to him speak for hours about anything.
“It would have,” she agreed in a not quite hollow voice. As much as she’d have liked to be completely contrite, it wasn’t in her nature. She was prevented from complete and total despair by the firm belief that she’d done as well as could be expected. Elias just happened to be unusually ill-equipped to understand his own precarious situation. She had understood it far better and sought some sort of alliance and if he’d understood the game at all he’d have played. As it stood, he was less like a cunning serpent and more like a confused, angry bull, raging through Athenia and bashing his horns against things at random.
“Stop acting like a child. What has happened is done and cannot be undone. What we must consider now is how we move forward.”
Her brown eyes flashed at him, irritation flashing for the first time. He was right, of course. As usual. But she did not have to appreciate him being quite so direct in this exact instance. His eyes zeroed in on her and she lifted her chin at him, cradling her wine glass to her breast. There was no defiance there. Simply an indication that she was listening to him and he finally answered her unasked question of what he would do now with one of his own.
“Did he take you into his confidence at all during this...dalliance of yours? You might have made a mess, but perhaps we can still salvage something useful from it” His long fingers wrapped around the back of her neck and she leaned back into his touch, her eyes sliding closed in unhidden relief.
“He did,” she opened her eyes again and set down her wine. “But nothing too terribly useful. I gleaned more from what he did not say. He has several lovers in court, as we well know. Lord Rafail is complicit in Lord Elias’s plans. Nothing we couldn’t have guessed but it’s all hard to prove.”
As loathe as she was to part from his touch, she leaned her forearm on the table, eyes sliding to the wall across from them and chewed on her thumbnail as she thought. “He’s not intelligent,” she told Cicero seriously. “But he is dangerous and I think he is planning to simply starve Athenia into submission, so that they are too hungry to riot.”
Cicero watched his wife's emotions flit across her face in sequence: shame, annoyance and then relief as she pressed, cat-like, into his touch. Shame was good, she'd made mistakes, and she would have to learn from them if they did not prove too costly for them to recover from. Annoyance? Well, he had never let that bother him before, and he wasn't about to start now. That she was glad to be at least in part forgiven...that was vital, for it showed him that her affections still lay with him. More gently, he asked if her foolishness had granted any reward and listened attentively to her answer.
'He did but nothing too terribly useful. I gleaned more from what he did not say. He has several lovers in court, as we well know. Lord Rafail is complicit in Lord Elias's plans. Nothing we couldn't have guessed, but it's all hard to prove.'
Nothing that he hadn't already deduced then, more the pity. Cicero considered where this left them, his mind whirring even as Elysia slipped out of his grasp and added her own observations. "Indeed" he mused, a token gesture to show he was listening though his thoughts had raced far ahead.
Lord Elias' efforts to control the supply chain might grant him a populace less ready to rise in rebellion. Still, he had yet to win over court, particularly when he had been so ineffective in doing anything of consequence since Persephone had fled. Cicero understood his aim: to see Athenia brought to its knees and to push the blame for that onto a missing monarch but the boy was naive if he had not considered how his inaction would be regarded alongside it.
"And how did you leave things with your lover?" he asked in the ensuing silence. "Does he favour you still, or have you been set aside for his new toy in the Princess?" Cicero asked because he needed to know and because if the Stravos Lord still thought he could use Elysia, then it was a thing that should not be ignored, even if it were a string the master informer would rather not pull upon. Elysia was useful to him at times, but his family was not a currency he liked to deal in, and he made a mental note to pay a little more attention to those the that the Lord Elias cared about if indeed, his interests ever extended beyond himself. He'd had recent enough conversations with the boy's father and mother, perhaps his sisters, or that little Antonis thing he had played with for a while.
For a few long moments, Cicero was silent. He had wondered which way to play with the information they now had about the Queen's location, been mapping out different scenarios in his head because it was the sort of knowledge that had the power to tip things one way or another. Personal preferences aside, the spymaster was first and foremost a man who knew what secrets were worth. But for once, he found himself disinclined to keep his own opinions out of it. The motivation to aid the Stravos in anything had waned to something relatively easy to ignore. Pity.
"If he asks for you, you are to let me know immediately," Cicero said, quietly and without fanfare yet leaving no uncertainty around the fact that he was deadly serious. Elysia might have been playing her own game, but the chessboard was his now. "Understood?" Almost he considered visiting his poisons cabinet and arming her with something that she could slip into his drink to fix the problem should it become..a problem, but he was not given to rash actions. There was no reason to think Lord Stravos meant Elysia any harm and no logical reason why the boy would believe either Elysia or Cicero held any sort of ill will toward him. Let it stay that way for now. "Anyway. What is done is done. Whilst in the spirit of confessions, is there anything else it might be pertinent for me to know? Any further revelations?"
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Cicero watched his wife's emotions flit across her face in sequence: shame, annoyance and then relief as she pressed, cat-like, into his touch. Shame was good, she'd made mistakes, and she would have to learn from them if they did not prove too costly for them to recover from. Annoyance? Well, he had never let that bother him before, and he wasn't about to start now. That she was glad to be at least in part forgiven...that was vital, for it showed him that her affections still lay with him. More gently, he asked if her foolishness had granted any reward and listened attentively to her answer.
'He did but nothing too terribly useful. I gleaned more from what he did not say. He has several lovers in court, as we well know. Lord Rafail is complicit in Lord Elias's plans. Nothing we couldn't have guessed, but it's all hard to prove.'
Nothing that he hadn't already deduced then, more the pity. Cicero considered where this left them, his mind whirring even as Elysia slipped out of his grasp and added her own observations. "Indeed" he mused, a token gesture to show he was listening though his thoughts had raced far ahead.
Lord Elias' efforts to control the supply chain might grant him a populace less ready to rise in rebellion. Still, he had yet to win over court, particularly when he had been so ineffective in doing anything of consequence since Persephone had fled. Cicero understood his aim: to see Athenia brought to its knees and to push the blame for that onto a missing monarch but the boy was naive if he had not considered how his inaction would be regarded alongside it.
"And how did you leave things with your lover?" he asked in the ensuing silence. "Does he favour you still, or have you been set aside for his new toy in the Princess?" Cicero asked because he needed to know and because if the Stravos Lord still thought he could use Elysia, then it was a thing that should not be ignored, even if it were a string the master informer would rather not pull upon. Elysia was useful to him at times, but his family was not a currency he liked to deal in, and he made a mental note to pay a little more attention to those the that the Lord Elias cared about if indeed, his interests ever extended beyond himself. He'd had recent enough conversations with the boy's father and mother, perhaps his sisters, or that little Antonis thing he had played with for a while.
For a few long moments, Cicero was silent. He had wondered which way to play with the information they now had about the Queen's location, been mapping out different scenarios in his head because it was the sort of knowledge that had the power to tip things one way or another. Personal preferences aside, the spymaster was first and foremost a man who knew what secrets were worth. But for once, he found himself disinclined to keep his own opinions out of it. The motivation to aid the Stravos in anything had waned to something relatively easy to ignore. Pity.
"If he asks for you, you are to let me know immediately," Cicero said, quietly and without fanfare yet leaving no uncertainty around the fact that he was deadly serious. Elysia might have been playing her own game, but the chessboard was his now. "Understood?" Almost he considered visiting his poisons cabinet and arming her with something that she could slip into his drink to fix the problem should it become..a problem, but he was not given to rash actions. There was no reason to think Lord Stravos meant Elysia any harm and no logical reason why the boy would believe either Elysia or Cicero held any sort of ill will toward him. Let it stay that way for now. "Anyway. What is done is done. Whilst in the spirit of confessions, is there anything else it might be pertinent for me to know? Any further revelations?"
Cicero watched his wife's emotions flit across her face in sequence: shame, annoyance and then relief as she pressed, cat-like, into his touch. Shame was good, she'd made mistakes, and she would have to learn from them if they did not prove too costly for them to recover from. Annoyance? Well, he had never let that bother him before, and he wasn't about to start now. That she was glad to be at least in part forgiven...that was vital, for it showed him that her affections still lay with him. More gently, he asked if her foolishness had granted any reward and listened attentively to her answer.
'He did but nothing too terribly useful. I gleaned more from what he did not say. He has several lovers in court, as we well know. Lord Rafail is complicit in Lord Elias's plans. Nothing we couldn't have guessed, but it's all hard to prove.'
Nothing that he hadn't already deduced then, more the pity. Cicero considered where this left them, his mind whirring even as Elysia slipped out of his grasp and added her own observations. "Indeed" he mused, a token gesture to show he was listening though his thoughts had raced far ahead.
Lord Elias' efforts to control the supply chain might grant him a populace less ready to rise in rebellion. Still, he had yet to win over court, particularly when he had been so ineffective in doing anything of consequence since Persephone had fled. Cicero understood his aim: to see Athenia brought to its knees and to push the blame for that onto a missing monarch but the boy was naive if he had not considered how his inaction would be regarded alongside it.
"And how did you leave things with your lover?" he asked in the ensuing silence. "Does he favour you still, or have you been set aside for his new toy in the Princess?" Cicero asked because he needed to know and because if the Stravos Lord still thought he could use Elysia, then it was a thing that should not be ignored, even if it were a string the master informer would rather not pull upon. Elysia was useful to him at times, but his family was not a currency he liked to deal in, and he made a mental note to pay a little more attention to those the that the Lord Elias cared about if indeed, his interests ever extended beyond himself. He'd had recent enough conversations with the boy's father and mother, perhaps his sisters, or that little Antonis thing he had played with for a while.
For a few long moments, Cicero was silent. He had wondered which way to play with the information they now had about the Queen's location, been mapping out different scenarios in his head because it was the sort of knowledge that had the power to tip things one way or another. Personal preferences aside, the spymaster was first and foremost a man who knew what secrets were worth. But for once, he found himself disinclined to keep his own opinions out of it. The motivation to aid the Stravos in anything had waned to something relatively easy to ignore. Pity.
"If he asks for you, you are to let me know immediately," Cicero said, quietly and without fanfare yet leaving no uncertainty around the fact that he was deadly serious. Elysia might have been playing her own game, but the chessboard was his now. "Understood?" Almost he considered visiting his poisons cabinet and arming her with something that she could slip into his drink to fix the problem should it become..a problem, but he was not given to rash actions. There was no reason to think Lord Stravos meant Elysia any harm and no logical reason why the boy would believe either Elysia or Cicero held any sort of ill will toward him. Let it stay that way for now. "Anyway. What is done is done. Whilst in the spirit of confessions, is there anything else it might be pertinent for me to know? Any further revelations?"
She watched his profile, eyes tracing the perfect bridge of his nose, the intensity of his eyes as he looked into his own thoughts. His mind was such a fascinating place. If she could walk inside it, she imagined she’d find somewhere quite like his office; somewhere chaotic and yet rife with information, with connections strung together like spiderwebs where one piece connected with another. Somewhere in that tangled web she imagined she’d find herself and their children but whether they were on the peripheral of his priorities or the center, she was never quite sure. So long as they where there, though, she was satisfied.
“And how did you leave things with your lover?” She wrinkled her nose at the word. “Does he favour you still, or have you been set aside for his new toy in the Princess?”
“His sights are on the princess, but he does still find uses for me, from time to time.” She sipped her wine. “Thankfully he seems to have satisfied his curiosity.” It wasn’t that Elias was terrible at sex or anything, but there was just something about him that Elysia was both intrigued by and made her skin crawl in revulsion. It was a weird mix of emotions to feel about one person. Her husband did not answer her immediately. Instead, he sat in silence, digesting what she’d told him. Elysia finished her wine and poured herself another, smaller, glass of it, finishing that too.
“If he asks for you, you are to let me know immediately,” he said at last and Elysia frowned at him. This sounded perilously close to permission. Permission she didn’t want. It was one thing, of course, to have a fling here or there, infrequent as they may be. But...this was different. She was already ashamed of it and was wanting to avoid it if she could.
“Understood?” he prompted when she didn’t answer right away.
Elysia resisted him for a moment, resting her elbow on the table and her cheek against her fist. She reached out for his hand with her free one, her eyes dropping from his face to his fingers. They were long and his palms broad. Not the hands of a painter, nor the hands of a worker, for his skin was soft and not burdened with callouses. These were scholar hands.
“Understood,” she finally said through a sigh. Elias. What a pain in her side. That he had never been born would have been a blessing to them all, but alas, he had been and the gods were doing nothing to stop him from being an absolute terror to Athenia. Where was Athena? Was she condoning this? Did the goddess not approve of their absentee queen?
“Anyway,” Cicero’s deep voice broke into her thoughts, prompting her to look back up at him again. ”What is done is done. Whilst in the spirit of confessions, is there anything else it might be pertinent for me to know? Any further revelations?”
Her eyes wandered beyond him, her lip tucking itself behind her teeth. “Unfortunately nothing that will impress you. Just idle gossip. I met Sofia of Marikas at our drop point at the Naos of Themis. She was dancing in the rain...but other than that, nothing of real note.” Should anything interesting develop, she would tell him, of course, but she didn’t think he was much interested in Sofia’s weird obsession with her horse or that Sofia preferred to be alone. Those were things that would be pertinent when they were pertinent.
"Cicero," Elysia raised up, changing the subject. "What will we do if Persephone regains her throne? Or if Elias ends up taking it?" She put her hand to her neck. "What if one or the other of them thinks we've committed treason?"
We. Ha. Her. She. She had committed treason.
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She watched his profile, eyes tracing the perfect bridge of his nose, the intensity of his eyes as he looked into his own thoughts. His mind was such a fascinating place. If she could walk inside it, she imagined she’d find somewhere quite like his office; somewhere chaotic and yet rife with information, with connections strung together like spiderwebs where one piece connected with another. Somewhere in that tangled web she imagined she’d find herself and their children but whether they were on the peripheral of his priorities or the center, she was never quite sure. So long as they where there, though, she was satisfied.
“And how did you leave things with your lover?” She wrinkled her nose at the word. “Does he favour you still, or have you been set aside for his new toy in the Princess?”
“His sights are on the princess, but he does still find uses for me, from time to time.” She sipped her wine. “Thankfully he seems to have satisfied his curiosity.” It wasn’t that Elias was terrible at sex or anything, but there was just something about him that Elysia was both intrigued by and made her skin crawl in revulsion. It was a weird mix of emotions to feel about one person. Her husband did not answer her immediately. Instead, he sat in silence, digesting what she’d told him. Elysia finished her wine and poured herself another, smaller, glass of it, finishing that too.
“If he asks for you, you are to let me know immediately,” he said at last and Elysia frowned at him. This sounded perilously close to permission. Permission she didn’t want. It was one thing, of course, to have a fling here or there, infrequent as they may be. But...this was different. She was already ashamed of it and was wanting to avoid it if she could.
“Understood?” he prompted when she didn’t answer right away.
Elysia resisted him for a moment, resting her elbow on the table and her cheek against her fist. She reached out for his hand with her free one, her eyes dropping from his face to his fingers. They were long and his palms broad. Not the hands of a painter, nor the hands of a worker, for his skin was soft and not burdened with callouses. These were scholar hands.
“Understood,” she finally said through a sigh. Elias. What a pain in her side. That he had never been born would have been a blessing to them all, but alas, he had been and the gods were doing nothing to stop him from being an absolute terror to Athenia. Where was Athena? Was she condoning this? Did the goddess not approve of their absentee queen?
“Anyway,” Cicero’s deep voice broke into her thoughts, prompting her to look back up at him again. ”What is done is done. Whilst in the spirit of confessions, is there anything else it might be pertinent for me to know? Any further revelations?”
Her eyes wandered beyond him, her lip tucking itself behind her teeth. “Unfortunately nothing that will impress you. Just idle gossip. I met Sofia of Marikas at our drop point at the Naos of Themis. She was dancing in the rain...but other than that, nothing of real note.” Should anything interesting develop, she would tell him, of course, but she didn’t think he was much interested in Sofia’s weird obsession with her horse or that Sofia preferred to be alone. Those were things that would be pertinent when they were pertinent.
"Cicero," Elysia raised up, changing the subject. "What will we do if Persephone regains her throne? Or if Elias ends up taking it?" She put her hand to her neck. "What if one or the other of them thinks we've committed treason?"
We. Ha. Her. She. She had committed treason.
She watched his profile, eyes tracing the perfect bridge of his nose, the intensity of his eyes as he looked into his own thoughts. His mind was such a fascinating place. If she could walk inside it, she imagined she’d find somewhere quite like his office; somewhere chaotic and yet rife with information, with connections strung together like spiderwebs where one piece connected with another. Somewhere in that tangled web she imagined she’d find herself and their children but whether they were on the peripheral of his priorities or the center, she was never quite sure. So long as they where there, though, she was satisfied.
“And how did you leave things with your lover?” She wrinkled her nose at the word. “Does he favour you still, or have you been set aside for his new toy in the Princess?”
“His sights are on the princess, but he does still find uses for me, from time to time.” She sipped her wine. “Thankfully he seems to have satisfied his curiosity.” It wasn’t that Elias was terrible at sex or anything, but there was just something about him that Elysia was both intrigued by and made her skin crawl in revulsion. It was a weird mix of emotions to feel about one person. Her husband did not answer her immediately. Instead, he sat in silence, digesting what she’d told him. Elysia finished her wine and poured herself another, smaller, glass of it, finishing that too.
“If he asks for you, you are to let me know immediately,” he said at last and Elysia frowned at him. This sounded perilously close to permission. Permission she didn’t want. It was one thing, of course, to have a fling here or there, infrequent as they may be. But...this was different. She was already ashamed of it and was wanting to avoid it if she could.
“Understood?” he prompted when she didn’t answer right away.
Elysia resisted him for a moment, resting her elbow on the table and her cheek against her fist. She reached out for his hand with her free one, her eyes dropping from his face to his fingers. They were long and his palms broad. Not the hands of a painter, nor the hands of a worker, for his skin was soft and not burdened with callouses. These were scholar hands.
“Understood,” she finally said through a sigh. Elias. What a pain in her side. That he had never been born would have been a blessing to them all, but alas, he had been and the gods were doing nothing to stop him from being an absolute terror to Athenia. Where was Athena? Was she condoning this? Did the goddess not approve of their absentee queen?
“Anyway,” Cicero’s deep voice broke into her thoughts, prompting her to look back up at him again. ”What is done is done. Whilst in the spirit of confessions, is there anything else it might be pertinent for me to know? Any further revelations?”
Her eyes wandered beyond him, her lip tucking itself behind her teeth. “Unfortunately nothing that will impress you. Just idle gossip. I met Sofia of Marikas at our drop point at the Naos of Themis. She was dancing in the rain...but other than that, nothing of real note.” Should anything interesting develop, she would tell him, of course, but she didn’t think he was much interested in Sofia’s weird obsession with her horse or that Sofia preferred to be alone. Those were things that would be pertinent when they were pertinent.
"Cicero," Elysia raised up, changing the subject. "What will we do if Persephone regains her throne? Or if Elias ends up taking it?" She put her hand to her neck. "What if one or the other of them thinks we've committed treason?"
We. Ha. Her. She. She had committed treason.
If there was some satisfaction to be drawn from the fact that Elysia seemed glad enough to have fallen out of Lord Elias’ favour, then Cicero did not show it. Rather he filed away his wife’s take on the situation, slotted it into everything else he knew and left it there to be ruinated upon later. And he didn’t care a jot if his next request put her out. Her meddling could have ended them in a very sticky situation, and Cicero wasn’t willing to accept any further surprises when it came to his wife and the Stravos lord. He didn’t often find a reason to draw such hard lines with Elysia, but this was one of them, and he expected her to respect it.
Even so, his palm turned upwards as she reached for his hand to allow their fingers to tangle briefly before he drew another line, this time under the subject matter. He trusted her not to doubt she had told him everything he needed to know, and there was no purpose in drawing out the issue. His next inquiry was a cursory one, whilst the conversation was flowing, and this time he could say he was pleased that his wife had nothing of note to report.
Her next words though, and the flutter of a hand to her throat as if the idea had just settled upon her had his brows lift and then fall rapidly, a mild flash of irritation.
“That would be quite the pickle wouldn’t it?” he mused, taking a sip of wine and watching her even as he considered the possibility once more.
Cicero himself had been very deliberately vague about his stance in all of this. He served the crown, and in theory, it didn’t matter a jot to him who wore it. The Stravos, for whatever reason, had not seen fit to call on him in a professional capacity. He knew they liked to play at spying, knew the girl had her little ruffians out on the streets. It was his job to know. But their arrogance had been a saving grace in some ways because they hadn’t asked he could not be said to have lied. He had submitted his monthly reports to the palati as he always did. It would be delightfully awkward case for anyone to make that he had done anything to hinder the Stravos family. But Cicero also knew that they might not even try and make a case, or that the Xanthos might - if they learned of Elysia’s actions - decide to make an example of those who were not loyal. Scenarios he had considered and made preparations for.
“I have always rather liked the idea of an extended trip overseas” he mused. “The children should really see the rest of Greece, and there are some quite remarkable minds in Egypt. If things were to shift in such a direction then I have made arrangements to allow us a speedy departure. But we are not there yet so don’t fret about what to wear.”
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If there was some satisfaction to be drawn from the fact that Elysia seemed glad enough to have fallen out of Lord Elias’ favour, then Cicero did not show it. Rather he filed away his wife’s take on the situation, slotted it into everything else he knew and left it there to be ruinated upon later. And he didn’t care a jot if his next request put her out. Her meddling could have ended them in a very sticky situation, and Cicero wasn’t willing to accept any further surprises when it came to his wife and the Stravos lord. He didn’t often find a reason to draw such hard lines with Elysia, but this was one of them, and he expected her to respect it.
Even so, his palm turned upwards as she reached for his hand to allow their fingers to tangle briefly before he drew another line, this time under the subject matter. He trusted her not to doubt she had told him everything he needed to know, and there was no purpose in drawing out the issue. His next inquiry was a cursory one, whilst the conversation was flowing, and this time he could say he was pleased that his wife had nothing of note to report.
Her next words though, and the flutter of a hand to her throat as if the idea had just settled upon her had his brows lift and then fall rapidly, a mild flash of irritation.
“That would be quite the pickle wouldn’t it?” he mused, taking a sip of wine and watching her even as he considered the possibility once more.
Cicero himself had been very deliberately vague about his stance in all of this. He served the crown, and in theory, it didn’t matter a jot to him who wore it. The Stravos, for whatever reason, had not seen fit to call on him in a professional capacity. He knew they liked to play at spying, knew the girl had her little ruffians out on the streets. It was his job to know. But their arrogance had been a saving grace in some ways because they hadn’t asked he could not be said to have lied. He had submitted his monthly reports to the palati as he always did. It would be delightfully awkward case for anyone to make that he had done anything to hinder the Stravos family. But Cicero also knew that they might not even try and make a case, or that the Xanthos might - if they learned of Elysia’s actions - decide to make an example of those who were not loyal. Scenarios he had considered and made preparations for.
“I have always rather liked the idea of an extended trip overseas” he mused. “The children should really see the rest of Greece, and there are some quite remarkable minds in Egypt. If things were to shift in such a direction then I have made arrangements to allow us a speedy departure. But we are not there yet so don’t fret about what to wear.”
If there was some satisfaction to be drawn from the fact that Elysia seemed glad enough to have fallen out of Lord Elias’ favour, then Cicero did not show it. Rather he filed away his wife’s take on the situation, slotted it into everything else he knew and left it there to be ruinated upon later. And he didn’t care a jot if his next request put her out. Her meddling could have ended them in a very sticky situation, and Cicero wasn’t willing to accept any further surprises when it came to his wife and the Stravos lord. He didn’t often find a reason to draw such hard lines with Elysia, but this was one of them, and he expected her to respect it.
Even so, his palm turned upwards as she reached for his hand to allow their fingers to tangle briefly before he drew another line, this time under the subject matter. He trusted her not to doubt she had told him everything he needed to know, and there was no purpose in drawing out the issue. His next inquiry was a cursory one, whilst the conversation was flowing, and this time he could say he was pleased that his wife had nothing of note to report.
Her next words though, and the flutter of a hand to her throat as if the idea had just settled upon her had his brows lift and then fall rapidly, a mild flash of irritation.
“That would be quite the pickle wouldn’t it?” he mused, taking a sip of wine and watching her even as he considered the possibility once more.
Cicero himself had been very deliberately vague about his stance in all of this. He served the crown, and in theory, it didn’t matter a jot to him who wore it. The Stravos, for whatever reason, had not seen fit to call on him in a professional capacity. He knew they liked to play at spying, knew the girl had her little ruffians out on the streets. It was his job to know. But their arrogance had been a saving grace in some ways because they hadn’t asked he could not be said to have lied. He had submitted his monthly reports to the palati as he always did. It would be delightfully awkward case for anyone to make that he had done anything to hinder the Stravos family. But Cicero also knew that they might not even try and make a case, or that the Xanthos might - if they learned of Elysia’s actions - decide to make an example of those who were not loyal. Scenarios he had considered and made preparations for.
“I have always rather liked the idea of an extended trip overseas” he mused. “The children should really see the rest of Greece, and there are some quite remarkable minds in Egypt. If things were to shift in such a direction then I have made arrangements to allow us a speedy departure. But we are not there yet so don’t fret about what to wear.”
Elysia didn’t quail at Cicero’s momentary lapse into irritation, nor did she react terribly much to the barbed “That would be quite the pickle wouldn’t it?” She couldn’t. At the moment, she wasn’t in much of a position to make demands and so her hand fell away from her throat and back into her lap. However, as much as it might have been appropriate, she couldn’t find it in herself to be terribly afraid. Silence stretched between them and in it, Elysia refilled her own winecup. Perhaps she was too tipsy to be afraid, because all she could definitely decide on now was that she was warm, from stomach to chest, to limbs, and feeling very much like she wanted to sink further down in her chair. She didn’t, of course. Even drunk, she wasn’t going to slouch.
Finally, Cicero said, “I have always rather liked the idea of an extended trip overseas.” His voice rolled over to her, dark and deep and lovely. Leaning her head against the back of the chair, she swung her attention to him and listened as he told her what she had hoped he would; that a plan was already in place, and that they needn’t enact it just yet.
There was something in that, though, the travel, that was somewhat appealing. Though she liked her life here, her friends, her social circle, it wasn’t anything that she wouldn’t drop in an instant if they had to. The two of them had traveled to Egypt years ago and she still looked on the trip fondly. The way the crystalline water of the Aegean fell away from the ship and lay in a sloshing line behind it, the golden coast of Egypt extending as far as the eye could see. The alabaster homes and shady palms guiding them into interesting foreign places…
Elysia nodded and sighed then, tipping her glass to her mouth again and realizing it was empty. “Hmm,” she hummed to herself before heavily and a little too carefully placing the glass back on the table’s top. It took her a while to manage it but finally she was smiling at him. “I’m going to bed. Tomorrow,” and here she slid to the edge of her chair, both hands dropping to his thighs as she braced herself, and bestowed a sloppy kiss to his mouth, one she would have been rightly ashamed of if she was sober. “Tomorrow, we plan.”
On the word ‘plan’, she gave an exaggerated, knowing wink, attempted to lift one hand to tap the side of her head, slipped, nearly face planted in his lap, but caught herself at the last moment. Raising back up quickly, she bit her lower lip. “Whoops!.” She wasn’t so far gone as to assume he’d leap at her for that sort of ‘mistake’, though she rather wished he would. “Are you coming?” she asked, doing her level best to rise from her chair in the most elegant and sober of ways, but only managed to draw herself up very tall and very silly, her eyes closed and her profile adopting a sort of nobility that was unique to the wasted.
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Elysia didn’t quail at Cicero’s momentary lapse into irritation, nor did she react terribly much to the barbed “That would be quite the pickle wouldn’t it?” She couldn’t. At the moment, she wasn’t in much of a position to make demands and so her hand fell away from her throat and back into her lap. However, as much as it might have been appropriate, she couldn’t find it in herself to be terribly afraid. Silence stretched between them and in it, Elysia refilled her own winecup. Perhaps she was too tipsy to be afraid, because all she could definitely decide on now was that she was warm, from stomach to chest, to limbs, and feeling very much like she wanted to sink further down in her chair. She didn’t, of course. Even drunk, she wasn’t going to slouch.
Finally, Cicero said, “I have always rather liked the idea of an extended trip overseas.” His voice rolled over to her, dark and deep and lovely. Leaning her head against the back of the chair, she swung her attention to him and listened as he told her what she had hoped he would; that a plan was already in place, and that they needn’t enact it just yet.
There was something in that, though, the travel, that was somewhat appealing. Though she liked her life here, her friends, her social circle, it wasn’t anything that she wouldn’t drop in an instant if they had to. The two of them had traveled to Egypt years ago and she still looked on the trip fondly. The way the crystalline water of the Aegean fell away from the ship and lay in a sloshing line behind it, the golden coast of Egypt extending as far as the eye could see. The alabaster homes and shady palms guiding them into interesting foreign places…
Elysia nodded and sighed then, tipping her glass to her mouth again and realizing it was empty. “Hmm,” she hummed to herself before heavily and a little too carefully placing the glass back on the table’s top. It took her a while to manage it but finally she was smiling at him. “I’m going to bed. Tomorrow,” and here she slid to the edge of her chair, both hands dropping to his thighs as she braced herself, and bestowed a sloppy kiss to his mouth, one she would have been rightly ashamed of if she was sober. “Tomorrow, we plan.”
On the word ‘plan’, she gave an exaggerated, knowing wink, attempted to lift one hand to tap the side of her head, slipped, nearly face planted in his lap, but caught herself at the last moment. Raising back up quickly, she bit her lower lip. “Whoops!.” She wasn’t so far gone as to assume he’d leap at her for that sort of ‘mistake’, though she rather wished he would. “Are you coming?” she asked, doing her level best to rise from her chair in the most elegant and sober of ways, but only managed to draw herself up very tall and very silly, her eyes closed and her profile adopting a sort of nobility that was unique to the wasted.
Elysia didn’t quail at Cicero’s momentary lapse into irritation, nor did she react terribly much to the barbed “That would be quite the pickle wouldn’t it?” She couldn’t. At the moment, she wasn’t in much of a position to make demands and so her hand fell away from her throat and back into her lap. However, as much as it might have been appropriate, she couldn’t find it in herself to be terribly afraid. Silence stretched between them and in it, Elysia refilled her own winecup. Perhaps she was too tipsy to be afraid, because all she could definitely decide on now was that she was warm, from stomach to chest, to limbs, and feeling very much like she wanted to sink further down in her chair. She didn’t, of course. Even drunk, she wasn’t going to slouch.
Finally, Cicero said, “I have always rather liked the idea of an extended trip overseas.” His voice rolled over to her, dark and deep and lovely. Leaning her head against the back of the chair, she swung her attention to him and listened as he told her what she had hoped he would; that a plan was already in place, and that they needn’t enact it just yet.
There was something in that, though, the travel, that was somewhat appealing. Though she liked her life here, her friends, her social circle, it wasn’t anything that she wouldn’t drop in an instant if they had to. The two of them had traveled to Egypt years ago and she still looked on the trip fondly. The way the crystalline water of the Aegean fell away from the ship and lay in a sloshing line behind it, the golden coast of Egypt extending as far as the eye could see. The alabaster homes and shady palms guiding them into interesting foreign places…
Elysia nodded and sighed then, tipping her glass to her mouth again and realizing it was empty. “Hmm,” she hummed to herself before heavily and a little too carefully placing the glass back on the table’s top. It took her a while to manage it but finally she was smiling at him. “I’m going to bed. Tomorrow,” and here she slid to the edge of her chair, both hands dropping to his thighs as she braced herself, and bestowed a sloppy kiss to his mouth, one she would have been rightly ashamed of if she was sober. “Tomorrow, we plan.”
On the word ‘plan’, she gave an exaggerated, knowing wink, attempted to lift one hand to tap the side of her head, slipped, nearly face planted in his lap, but caught herself at the last moment. Raising back up quickly, she bit her lower lip. “Whoops!.” She wasn’t so far gone as to assume he’d leap at her for that sort of ‘mistake’, though she rather wished he would. “Are you coming?” she asked, doing her level best to rise from her chair in the most elegant and sober of ways, but only managed to draw herself up very tall and very silly, her eyes closed and her profile adopting a sort of nobility that was unique to the wasted.
After watching his wife’s injudcious pouring of wine through dinner, Cicero was not in the least suprised when it seemed to take a hold of her. He looked on passively as Elysia worked very hard to set her glass down upon the table and then announced her intention to go to bed.
“Might be wise” he mused idly, finishing off his own wine. The man’s expression - for as much as it ever revealed - was almost indulgent as his wife leant in to press a clumsy kiss to his mouth which flickered into a smile as she sat back.
“ We shall see how your head feels in the morning” He had a fairly well-grounded suspicion that she would awaken foggy headed and self pitying and demand the shutters be closed again. And he could not hold it against her really. Troublesome as her actions might yet prove to be, Cicero didn’t doubt that Elysia had burnt her fingers a little playing with fire, and though she would scarce admit it, she took such things to heart. Though his sympathies were dulled slightly as she tipped forward almost out of her seat entirely and Cicero blinked back his mild exasperation.
His wife was a beautiful woman, he was well aware of the fact. However, the strange contortion her face made in what he could only imagine was an attempt at a wink did not demonstrate her flawless features to their best effect and he could only observe in silent amusement. With a cant of his head and the return of his cup to the table the man drew up to his feet with a lot less effort, the dryest of dry “How can I possibly resist such temptation” quietly spoken as he set a steadying hand on Elysia’s lower back.
There were things he needed to do, assurances he needed to secure given what his wife had confirmed to him that night but there was nothing that would be done better by him doing it then. Come the morning he would speak to those sources he had who were close to the boy Lord who thought to be king.
For now though, the spy master busied himself ensuring his wife did not tumble down the stairs nor fall face first over one of those decorative pieces she was so fond of installing around their home.
Once they had reached their chambers and Elysia had plopped herself inelegantly on to the bed, he caught her before she could smush her face into the pillow and without any fanfare carefully drew the jewelled pins from her hair one by one so they would not poke her in the head as she slept. Or nearly take his eye out as he slept beside her. Not at all a man given to overt displays of affection, Cicero nevertheless showed it, in his own way. Which one this night was meticulously removing each of the clips and setting them down with a clatter in the small mother of Pearl dish she kept just to store the infernal things
“There, better” he said, casually sweeping her hair back from her face. He had a feeling that she would be snoring lightly soon enough.
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After watching his wife’s injudcious pouring of wine through dinner, Cicero was not in the least suprised when it seemed to take a hold of her. He looked on passively as Elysia worked very hard to set her glass down upon the table and then announced her intention to go to bed.
“Might be wise” he mused idly, finishing off his own wine. The man’s expression - for as much as it ever revealed - was almost indulgent as his wife leant in to press a clumsy kiss to his mouth which flickered into a smile as she sat back.
“ We shall see how your head feels in the morning” He had a fairly well-grounded suspicion that she would awaken foggy headed and self pitying and demand the shutters be closed again. And he could not hold it against her really. Troublesome as her actions might yet prove to be, Cicero didn’t doubt that Elysia had burnt her fingers a little playing with fire, and though she would scarce admit it, she took such things to heart. Though his sympathies were dulled slightly as she tipped forward almost out of her seat entirely and Cicero blinked back his mild exasperation.
His wife was a beautiful woman, he was well aware of the fact. However, the strange contortion her face made in what he could only imagine was an attempt at a wink did not demonstrate her flawless features to their best effect and he could only observe in silent amusement. With a cant of his head and the return of his cup to the table the man drew up to his feet with a lot less effort, the dryest of dry “How can I possibly resist such temptation” quietly spoken as he set a steadying hand on Elysia’s lower back.
There were things he needed to do, assurances he needed to secure given what his wife had confirmed to him that night but there was nothing that would be done better by him doing it then. Come the morning he would speak to those sources he had who were close to the boy Lord who thought to be king.
For now though, the spy master busied himself ensuring his wife did not tumble down the stairs nor fall face first over one of those decorative pieces she was so fond of installing around their home.
Once they had reached their chambers and Elysia had plopped herself inelegantly on to the bed, he caught her before she could smush her face into the pillow and without any fanfare carefully drew the jewelled pins from her hair one by one so they would not poke her in the head as she slept. Or nearly take his eye out as he slept beside her. Not at all a man given to overt displays of affection, Cicero nevertheless showed it, in his own way. Which one this night was meticulously removing each of the clips and setting them down with a clatter in the small mother of Pearl dish she kept just to store the infernal things
“There, better” he said, casually sweeping her hair back from her face. He had a feeling that she would be snoring lightly soon enough.
After watching his wife’s injudcious pouring of wine through dinner, Cicero was not in the least suprised when it seemed to take a hold of her. He looked on passively as Elysia worked very hard to set her glass down upon the table and then announced her intention to go to bed.
“Might be wise” he mused idly, finishing off his own wine. The man’s expression - for as much as it ever revealed - was almost indulgent as his wife leant in to press a clumsy kiss to his mouth which flickered into a smile as she sat back.
“ We shall see how your head feels in the morning” He had a fairly well-grounded suspicion that she would awaken foggy headed and self pitying and demand the shutters be closed again. And he could not hold it against her really. Troublesome as her actions might yet prove to be, Cicero didn’t doubt that Elysia had burnt her fingers a little playing with fire, and though she would scarce admit it, she took such things to heart. Though his sympathies were dulled slightly as she tipped forward almost out of her seat entirely and Cicero blinked back his mild exasperation.
His wife was a beautiful woman, he was well aware of the fact. However, the strange contortion her face made in what he could only imagine was an attempt at a wink did not demonstrate her flawless features to their best effect and he could only observe in silent amusement. With a cant of his head and the return of his cup to the table the man drew up to his feet with a lot less effort, the dryest of dry “How can I possibly resist such temptation” quietly spoken as he set a steadying hand on Elysia’s lower back.
There were things he needed to do, assurances he needed to secure given what his wife had confirmed to him that night but there was nothing that would be done better by him doing it then. Come the morning he would speak to those sources he had who were close to the boy Lord who thought to be king.
For now though, the spy master busied himself ensuring his wife did not tumble down the stairs nor fall face first over one of those decorative pieces she was so fond of installing around their home.
Once they had reached their chambers and Elysia had plopped herself inelegantly on to the bed, he caught her before she could smush her face into the pillow and without any fanfare carefully drew the jewelled pins from her hair one by one so they would not poke her in the head as she slept. Or nearly take his eye out as he slept beside her. Not at all a man given to overt displays of affection, Cicero nevertheless showed it, in his own way. Which one this night was meticulously removing each of the clips and setting them down with a clatter in the small mother of Pearl dish she kept just to store the infernal things
“There, better” he said, casually sweeping her hair back from her face. He had a feeling that she would be snoring lightly soon enough.
