Rodric, in the time-honored tradition of vassalage, had been sent by Count Basil to the court of Seaharrow to serve as a squire to his father’s lord. At the next Summer Court, he was due to be elevated to knighthood. His father was getting on in years, and Rodric stood to inherit the estate. He was seventeen, and he had a promising future.
In other words, he had a lot to lose.
It hadn’t taken long at all. At first, she had merely noticed him, making sure he noticed her noticing him. Then it was a simple matter of eye contact, looking at him and then quickly averting her gaze, as if in embarrassment, whenever he noticed her attention. After that, whenever their eyes met, she had started hesitating before she looked away, allowing a fleeting but meaningful contact. To this, she gradually added subtle variations. A nervous swallow whenever their eyes met, a moistening of the lips, a few deep breaths to draw his attention to her bosom, then lingering sidelong glances, and finally, when she was sure no one else would notice, smoldering stares.
He started to find excuses to run into her around the castle and on the grounds. She studied his routine and made sure there were opportunities for them to encounter one another, as if by coincidence.
When they spoke, it was with formal politeness, but he was always very attentive and solicitous. He started to take extra care of his appearance. The next step was brief physical contact. She would brush against him, as if by accident, and when they encountered one another in the garden, they would sit 407 and chat for a short while, their thighs or knees or shoulders touching slightly. He had the fervor and impatience of youth, which made things even easier.
When he took her hand and brushed it with his lips, lingering just a bit too long, Laera would increase her breathing and open her mouth slightly, gazing at him with a dreamy stare. And when he kissed her for the first time, he probably thought he was being astonishingly bold and reckless.
She made him believe she could not resist him, no matter how hard she tried. Her whispered protestations were punctuated by soft moans of encouragement, and soon thereafter, she “surrendered” to him, as if no longer able to hold her feelings in check.
Then, as with Derwyn, she slowly began to tighten the noose.
By the time the emperor’s marriage was celebrated in Anuire, she had Rodric eating out of her hand. She was conducting a torrid affair right under her husband’s very nose, and Derwyn did not suspect a thing.
However, with Rodric, she did not make the same mistake she made with Aedan. She had learned that lesson long ago. She curbed her appetite and always left him wanting more, carefully controlling the frequency of their assignations, allowing his hunger for her to grow.
She complained of Derwyn’s inattentiveness and told Rodric her husband only pretended to love her, that when they were alone together, he was brusque and even cruel on occasion. While Rodric held her in his arms, she speculated wistfully on what it would be like if they could run away together, adding that of course that would be impossible because it would ruin both their lives. Yet, if only she were free….
One more phase of her plan fell into place quite by accident, thanks to Rodric. Knowing the “miserable isolation of her existence,” he took it upon himself to provide her regular reports of the goings-on in the town and its vicinity. He was a natural gossip, and most of his stories she found interminably boring, but one in particular piqued her interest.
A young teenaged girl in town, a thief and prostitute, had been arrested for stabbing a merchant. He had survived, but as he was an influential member of the community, the girl had been sentenced to hang. Privately, Laera thought it a fitting punishment. The lower classes had to be reminded of their place every now and then to keep them in line and properly respectful. But when she went to Derwyn, claiming to have heard about the incident from one of her ladies-in-waiting, she pleaded for him to intercede and save the poor girl’s life. Surely, she said, this girl had been trapped in a life of hopeless misery, and only desperation had driven her to do the deed.
She at least deserved a second chance.
Laera offered to take the girl into her service, saying she was sure she could reach past the bitterness and the hardships she had suffered.
And, she added, it would be a wonderful opportunity for Derwyn to display compassion and demonstrate to the people of Boeruine that he was merciful and truly cared about their welfare.
Derwyn had some reservations, but she wore him down, and soon the girl was brought from the tollhouse in the town to Seaharrow. She was proud and haughty, but not so foolish that she did not realize she owed her life to Laera. Her name was Gella. She was fifteen years old, a peasant through and through,
who had been orphaned at an early age and had learned to survive by her wits. There was a spark of stubborn wilfulness in her gaze, and Laera saw in her a kindred soul that could be molded to her pur-It poses.
She told her other ladies she wished to be left alone with Gella, and when they had left, marveling at the compassion of
