It is time for supper and having still been stunned by Kalodor and Delyth's interaction, he remains calm, unbuttons his waistcoat and sits at the head of the table. The servants arrive with the dishes and place them in front of him. He takes a napkin and spreads it across his lap. As he silently eats his food, he gets the sudden feeling of loneliness that he's never had before. The feeling of wanting some company that is not Jothan Kersey.

He raises the chalice to his mouth and takes a sip of the red wine as his eyes roam around the great hall. His eyes settle on Delyth who stands at attention 20 feet away from him. He allows his eyes to inspect her in the metal uniform. She looks better in it yet than the other men.

He clears his throat. "Pulchra." She shows no sign of acknowledging that she either hears him or knows that she is who he is calling. He flexes his jaw in annoyance. "Dame Delyth Aiken."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she looks in his direction. She heard him before but she finds it hard to believe that he was calling her. Especially by such an endearment. "My lord."

He motions to the seat on his right. "Why don't you have a seat? Eat with me."

She curtly bows her head in respect. "I apologize but I must refuse your offer."

His jaw flexes and a scowl falls on his face but it disappears when he blinks and flashes a blinding smile in an effort to appease her. "I insist. Take a seat."

She realizes by the hardening of his voice that he is leaving her no option. What she mistook for a question is actually a demand. Delyth's attention moves to Tiarnan who is on the other side of the great hall. The fire blazing in his eyes is a clear indication that he is very bothered by Silas's request.

Why her?

She makes her way towards the table and Silas quickly stands to his feet and pulls the chair out for her to sit. Bearing witness, Jothan narrows his eyes at Silas's peculiar behavior towards Delyth. He wasn't nearly this affectionate towards his late wife, Flavia.

"You are a beguiling woman, Delyth. I can't imagine the strength it took you to go through extensive training to get where you are right now. That in itself is admirable." Jothan's eyes bulge in his head, not believing the words leaving his friend's lips.

"I appreciate your kind words, my lord," she mutters, sitting incredibly still. Somehow, it bothers him that she's not eating the food. Does his reputation portray him as such a bad person that even having a meal with him is a bad task? Of course it is.

"Delyth, the servants worked really hard cooking this meal. I am sure you wouldn't want it to go to waste." Her head turns to look at him slowly, wanting to pluck the teeth from his mouth with the fork and knife, wiping the smile that seems stuck on his deceivingly handsome face.

She rolls her lips between her teeth then looks down on the plate that lay empty in front of her. Picking up the fork, she adds a small slice of pie, lamb and a single roll of garlic bread. She glances at Silas before putting a piece of the pie in her mouth.

The soft texture that melts her taste buds and delectable taste almost makes her roll her eyes over in her head in delight.

He watches her closely, content that she is eating and enjoying it. He takes a moment to observe how smooth her dark skin is. Something about her, he finds incomparably magnificent. What catches his attention the most is her hair. Her hair is done in two pigtails but each has five elastic bands in them giving it a certain puff. He's never seen hair do that before.

She looks like a goddess, he thinks to himself in a daze.

As his eyes gradually rake her features, he notices two strange things.

A scar.

Two necklaces.

"May I ask how you got that scar?" He surprises himself by how low and tender his voice has gotten. He clears his throat.

Her hand instinctively reaches up to her neck at the exact spot the claw mark is. She could tell him about Ravi but she fears that he might send people to hurt him and she can't risk that.

"A bear attacked me. I decided to go for a walk, went too far and–" she fibs smoothly, tilting her head to the side, revealing more of the mark.

He hums a noncommittal sound. He leans forward and lifts the necklaces from under her clothes to reveal what they are. One of them has three overlapped circles and the other is an obvious ring. He drops the necklace that seems to hold a more sentimental value and focuses more on the ring attached to the chain.

Silas blinks once. He blinks twice. He runs his tongue on the inside of his cheek, trying to come to terms with the thing hanging loosely on the end of his finger.

Delyth grows nervous and looks towards Tiarnan whose vein is bulging in his neck and his fists are clenched too hard at his sides. She softens her eyes, hoping he gets the message asking him to calm down. Tiarnan takes a breath and forces himself to look away before he finds himself marching over to Silas and breaking his neck for even being too close to Delyth.

"You're married?" He raises his eyebrows and takes a glimpse at her before bringing his attention back to the ring. He lets go of the sparkling jewelry and lets it hit the armor with a clank.

"Engaged." His mouth forms an 'O'.

"That should not be a surprise. He is a lucky man." It is a true sentence but he doesn't know if he means it or not. The first woman he thinks is on an equal level as him, turns out to be owned by another. The good news is that she's engaged, not married. This gives him enough time to prove to her that she deserves someone who holds somewhat of the same power on people as she.

"Yes, he is." She casts her eyes on the man she loves most and captures her heart. While they gaze into each other's eyes, sending love notes through their hearts, Jothan watches the encounter between the two and immediately connects the dots.

Silas, on the other hand, who is too busy caught up in his head, swallows his food before addressing her once more. "I made a special arrangement, specifically for you. I would like to show you after dinner, so eat up."

Keeping to his word, he leads her to a brown door. He pushes the key in the hole, turns it and slowly opens it. He steps to the side, allowing her to go in and studying her expression. Given that he knows nothing about her, he hopes it is to her satisfaction.

Delyth spins in a circle, taking a good survey of the white and gold room. A big enough bed for three with a bed bench at the end. A study table near the window with parchment papers and a quill. Her eyes find a tall, white wardrobe on the other side of the room. Cautiously, she proceeds towards it and opens it.

Not believing her eyes, she quickly closes it and moves away from the wardrobe full of shoes and gowns. They were of various, beautiful colors but it was too much for a Dame.

"I cannot accept this, my lord. I doubt the other guards and knights, even the servants, are granted such a luxurious room as this." She gives him a knowing look and by the ghost of a smile that passes his lips, she knows she is right.

"You are unlike anyone who has served here and for that you deserve the best. You are a Dame. The first in history. You are warranted to live like this." He sweeps his hand around in the exquisite room. She opens her mouth to protest his argument but he stops her. "You are meant to inhabit here and that is an order from your King."

He leaves no room for her to respond, even though she has nothing to say. The baffled twenty-four year old woman scans the room once more and wraps her arms around her in discomfort. She expected getting Silas's trust would be harder than this but all it took was for her to be a Dame and he would be putty in her hands.

Maybe killing him will be easier than she thought.

Two hours later, she gets a knock on the door and she looks in the direction to see Tiarnan standing in utter shock while his eyes run across the room.

"So, it's true? You have caught the attention of the King and he has permitted you a room to yourself?" She sends him a sheepish smile and pulls him inside.

"It's not something I anticipated either. I'm not comfortable but it is something I will have to grow accustomed to." She watches as he observes the clothes in the wardrobe. "What do you think?"

"I think you deserve it. You deserve it all. I am not fond of the idea that he finds interest in you. Daring to be so close to what's mine but at least it makes things easier for you." He points out, gliding his hand along the soft material on the bed.

"Do you know what I also think?" Delyth's breath hitches at the sudden low and sultry tone of his voice and how dark his eyes got.

"What?" She answers, sounding almost breathless. Without knowing, her body automatically draws closer to him.

"As soon as we get married, we can consummate our union in this bed. I get to hear your silent cries as I-"

"Why are you not at your post, Soldier?" The authoritative voice of Silas Casteron interrupts their intimate moment causing Tiarnan to pause in his steps when he was nearing Delyth.

He straightens himself to address Silas. "Ensuring that Dame Aiken is comfortable in her quarters, my lord."

"Very well. Nevertheless, if I learn that you abandon your responsibilities a second time, rest assured that I will either send you back to Swuybia or I will make an example of you to the others. Do pray that I choose the former." Silas's voice drops an octave, having a huskiness to it which causes Delyth to take a sharp intake of breath and flinch away at the audaciousness of his threat.

Tiarnan bows, avoids eye contact and leaves the room quietly. Delyth sends a death stare the Silas's way, not caring that he notices or not. Her eyes burn in anger, nails creating marks in her palm and a vein protruding in the middle of her forehead. As far as she is concerned, he just made wanting to kill him even the more exhilarating. Silas makes eye contact with Delyth and gets caught off guard by the pure rage emitting off her and onto him. He then realizes the mistake he made by threatening the life of someone this powerful woman cares about.

As silence fills the room, she counts the days of his impending death, already tasting the exuberance when the last speck of sand hits the bottom of the hourglass indicating that his time has run out.

15/07/22

Au revoir...

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