SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES
She feels some primal thrill just to be near him.
To know that she is powerless against the terrible power he wields.
It has never been in her nature to bend. She has always met pressure with stubborn resolve. She is not built to yield. But she has never tried to resist him, Stave. And perhaps this is some unbearable weakness on her part, her eagerness to let him flay her alive, but she wastes no energy on trying to determine exactly what it makes her.
He toys with her, as he always does. And she takes as much satisfaction in it as he does. The venom, the darkness, the knowledge that he could end her without having to try all that hard.
He mentions the children and she follows his gaze to the horizon. It does not occur to her that he might have already encountered them, that they are the reason for his irritation. She merely blinks those reptilian eyes and shifts her focus back to his face.
Would she try to stop him should he try to harm them?
Would she fight for her children?
She knows the answer without having to dwell on it. She understands, as he does, that they are old enough now to fend for themselves. Their deaths would be their own responsibilities, their blood on their own hands.
She feels it again and this time she knows she has not imagined it. So slight that the only damage it does is make the edges of her vision soft as she studies him. Notches up her proud chin but does not immediately answer.
Remembers how she’d begged.
“Is that why you came?” she asks, “to ask how I’ve been?”
She shifts her weight then, slinks closer by inches. “How disappointing.”