She would lull him into a false sense of security and then she would neatly turn the tables. It would take time, but she would thoroughly enjoy every moment of it.
That had been three years ago. Since then, her plan had progressed steadily and surely. She had accepted all of Derwyn’s directives without question, at first merely acting sullen and stoic about it, but gradually, she had allowed him to perceive her mood begin to alter.
This gradual warming trend she had timed to coincide exactly with the frequency of their efforts at procreation. The first time, about a week after their marriage-she could not tell if he was merely giving her time to get used to the idea or if he was working himself up to it-she had acted stiff and unresponsive initially, as if she were suffering in silence through an experience she could not avoid. But as he neared climax, s e a egun to thrust against him slightly and had allowed a small moan or two to escape her lips, as if she were enjoying it despite herself. That seemed to both please and excite him, though he had tried not to let it
show. She remembered laughing inwardly, thinking that men were so transparent.
The next time, as before, she greeted him as if what they were about to do was a trial for her, but once more, as their lovemaking progressed, she began responding, displaying a bit more excitement-but carefully, not too much. She couldn’t let him think she was enjoying the act for its own sake.
She wanted Derwyn to believe it was him she was responding to, that his male prowess was getting through to her despite her resistance. And little by little, she gave a little more, and then a little more, until eventually her entire demeanor had changed when he came to her.
After a few weeks, she greeted him with eyes meekly downcast, submissive instead of quietly defiant, but when she looked up at him, it was with hopeful anticipation. She always quickly averted her gaze whenever he noticed it, as if she did not mean for him to see how she truly felt.
And out of the corner of her eye, she would see the smug little smile on his Bps as he noticed what she had pretended to hide and she would think how easy it was.
They were really all the same. Cater to their sense of self, to their pride and illusions of power, and soon they all became putty in her hands. But with Derwyn, the game was more drawn out and considerably more elaborate, in part for its own sake, because she was bored and there was little else to do, and in part because the end result she planned for was ambitious and complex.
A month passed, and she had begun to act repentant, not saying anything outright, but letting him know through her demeanor that she regretted the
way she had behaved before. When he came to her bed, she was tender and receptive, always careful not to show too much enthusiasm, allowing him to think he was bringing out the tenderness in her, the “true woman” who had slumbered for so long, that he was making her fall in love with him.
And when he left her, she would always turn away and pretend to weep into her pillow. One night, when he hesitated, lingering by the door to her bedchamber as if he were about to offer words of comfort but managed to fight down the impulse, then she knew she had him.
Eight months into their marriage and she was still not pregnant.
Doubtless, Derwyn was starting to feel frustration at their failure, but she wasn’t pregnant because she had a supply of a special preparation, a potion she had obtained from a wizard in Anuire that would inhibit her fertility. She was not yet ready to give him a child. She had to build up his anticipation and break down his defenses. The timing had to be just right. With Arwyn, she knew, it never would have worked, but Derwyn merely thought he was as strong as his father ever was, when in truth, it wasn’t Arwyn’s strength that would have made her fail with him, but his complete indifference to anyone except himself.
A year passed, and she entered the next stage of her plan. She was, by now, playing the part of the dutiful and quietly submissive wife to the hilt, but now she added something else. She fell into a melancholy, and at times allowed him to find her weeping for no apparent reason.
She began to go to temple regularly, praying every day, until even the priests remarked upon her piety. All of this, she knew, was being reported back to Derwyn, whose manner toward her by now had changed completely.
Convinced he had brought about a change in her, Derwyn was now puzzled by her new behavior.
And one night, when she judged the time was right because he had seemed particularly tender with her, she waited until they were finished with their lovemaking and he lay upon her, spent. Then she started sobbing.
He looked up with alarm and moved to lie beside her. “What is it, Laera?” he asked, stroking her hair softly. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, everything is wrong!” she cried. “All wrong!
I am all wrong!”
“But how? Why? I don’t understand.”
Still sobbing, she shook her head and turned away from him, as if ashamed.
“Tell me,” he said. “Please.”
“I am being punished,” she said, sobbing. “Punished for the all wicked things I have done, for the selfish life I’ve led!
