Chapter 7: In Which Lady Pergram is Constantly Confronted

She placed her hand on the doorknob and rested her eyes on the skin on the back of her palm. Such transparent skin, she could see her veins falling vertically down from her white knuckles toward her fine wrist. So transparent yet still mysterious, what did a blood vessel look like when it wasn't covered in skin? Why were her veins blue and her blood red?

Angelique passed the last few days in a dreamy haze, her thoughts scattering about like sand. She felt different, unlike herself in so many ways. If she had been the type of girl who opened her heart to others, they'd all tell her that it was natural to feel the way she did. Yet she was more displaced than simple grief. Grief and she were old comrades: first her father died, then her brother, now her lover. Or whatever Cooper had been to her. She called him lover, but that was because she had no better word to describe him.

The doorknob turned from the other side and was pulled out of her hand as the door opened. Grand Master Marning stood there, the shape of a smile on his face though his blue eyes were shuttered. He said nothing, only stepped back, inviting her inside.

She hesitated. Harlock had spoken fondly of this man, but Angelique did not particularly like old men, especially those who had deep frown lines digging into their face. She had not felt as wary of his secretary like she felt wary of this man and usually the secretaries were more troublesome than their masters.

"Lady Pergam," he said in a quiet voice. She strode inside, her face carefully guarded. He escorted her into the sitting room and invited her to sit.

She placed her palms nervously on her knees, sitting at the edge of the chair. She did not want him to ask her questions about her relationship with Harlock Cooper. No one knew its extent or magnitude; she had barely spoken since his death, allowing the world to think that she was in shock.

"Have you managed to rest, my lady?" he asked, showing kindness and concern. Or fake kindness, Angelique had fed on too much feigned kindness over the years. It made her ill.

"Grand Master," she said, her voice flat, "you have never been a flowery speaker, please refrain. I assure you, courtesy will only make me wearier."

He drew back in his seat, surprised. That was one thing Angelique always had at her disposal, the element of surprise. Her appearance dulled everyone's senses; she could make them forget she had a brain behind her silence. Maybe it was because she was a woman and a low-ranking noble. For whatever reason, she was always underestimated, and that suited her well. He grinned, this time a different grin, a sign of approval. "Very well," the Grand Master said. "Tell me, Lady Pergam, how well did you know the King's Magician?"

"You of all people must realise, Grand Master, that no one truly knew him." She would not open up to this man; she would not easily share what she didn't have to. From here on, there was no room for error.

He answered with silence, accepting it as the truth. He wasn't truly interested in their relationship, she realised. Only women cared for such things. He was interested in the meaning of things; he was interested in finding some sort of answer written on her face. She would give him none of that, but he could still find out if he so wanted; he was a magician after all. He could look into her soul and simply find all the answers written there.

"Lady Pergam," he said in quiet tones, looking at her with mild curiosity. "I have requested this audience on a personal whim, because I am trying to find out what killed Harlock, and seeing as you were with him in the last moment of his life, I feel that you must have some shard of information, some detail that could shed light on this mystery."

"I know nothing of Wielders and the magic they wield." Angelique believed this, even if it was a little exaggerated. The more she had gotten involved with Cooper, the more it was obvious; she was only one small part of a bigger puzzle

"But you have your theory, lady; I can hear it on the surface of your thoughts."

"Such misplaced theories are worthless," she snapped. It was not her temper she was losing, it was her composure. She did not have much anger left in her empty heart, but when a magician said that he could hear a thought, it was not a metaphor.

He grunted and to her surprise grinned, watching her with an expression she could not understand. "Such a sharp-tongued lady, I would never have imagined. I do wonder how you succeed in hiding yourself so well."

"Hide? I think not." She shook her head. It was strange of him to think that someone like her would ever need to hide from anyone's attention. She was nothing but the daughter of a minor, dead count, with a few barely-presentable lands as her dowry. She was no prominent court figure; she was merely a lost girl, a face in the crowd, not beautiful, not rich, not particularly interesting to anyone.

The Grand Master leaned forward, coming so close that Angelique had to lean back in her chair to avoid him. "There, you're doing it again." He smiled, looking almost triumphant, "Slipping out of my mind like a bar of soap."

"I'm not doing anything," she said. She rose from her seat and took a few steps away. "Have you more questions, Grand Master, or may I take my leave?"

"I seem to have only more questions from you, Lady Pergam. If you will not tell me what you think killed Harlock, then, for the time being, there is nothing more we can discuss."

***

She needed to calm her racing heart. The Grand Master had unnerved her more than she could have imagined. His gaze had been intrusive, his words had been too careful, as if he knew the truth but was trying to trap her into saying it. And there was no knowing what he saw with his Wielder eyes, staring into her soul and private thoughts as if they were an open book. He was probably now recalling to himself their entire conversation, paying attention to all the details he had missed while it occurred. Cooper had told her of that Wielder ability to re-live events as if they were happening again, to pull up a memory as clearly as if it were a photograph. He had called it "a useful trick." She now considered it a cruel one.

Angelique looked out of the window on the fourth floor landing of the east tower. She had come right here after leaving the Grand Master's private rooms. She frequented this place more than others, when she wanted to be left alone without Morilla fussing over her, without her mother frowning at her. She liked the loneliness here, and she liked the view. Standing high over all of Auran, seeing as far as the sea.

She liked best to watch the steamships leave the dock and sail away, the plumes of smoke rising from their sturdy metal smokestacks. They became smaller and smaller until finally they just disappeared off the horizon, swallowed by the line that divided the sky from the sea. If only she could board one of those steamers, she'd go as far as Finnley, where there were no kings or court and women were treated as equals to men. Or maybe the Innex Isles where she could live a simple life gathering feathers that the Sky Monks dropped, bartering them to merchants of Hazarda in exchange for chocolate.

To leave and never look back, to hold no regrets, to just live a peaceful, uneventful life. That was all she had wanted, that was her fantasy. She was young, yet she had no romantic notions. Life was unrelentingly harsh; uneventful was the best she could wish for. Freedom, happiness – did those things really exist or were they just words?

Angelique balled her hand into a fist and pressed it against her chest, against her heart. It was a small gesture, a habit she had since she was very small. In painful times, when her tears threatened to flow, the steady tattoo of her heart beating against her fist, back and forth, combined with several deep breaths, in and out, would serve to calm her.

But today her nervousness could not be allayed. Footsteps echoed up the stairs. She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the window, hoping that whoever it was, they would give her no heed and leave her be. She knew it was not a servant, for no servant would make such racket walking about; it could only be a man, and one with a formidable opinion of himself.

The firm steps halted. She knew at once that he had come here purposely to find her. By his heavy, laboured breathing and the familiar smell that always accompanied him, with a sinking heart, she knew who it was.

"Lord Drovling," she said, her voice only just louder than his breathing.

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A/N - Aside from this and the next chapter, there is no more of Angelique's POV. I'm wondering if I should add a few more chapters featuring her. So, this isn't really a question that can be answered at this point, I'd just appreciate if those of you who are reading keep this in mind and tell me later, when the book progresses if you think adding more Angelique chapters would help the book. Keep in mind that while the genre is not quite epic fantasy, the book is almost 100k words long and adding another POV will only make it longer. Angelique is a planned main character in the sequel, though.

Anyway, food for though.