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Every so often, Rafail needed a break from his very complicated life. Few people seemed to understand that sleeping around, drinking and generally doing whatever you willed was, in reality, far more gruelling than it sounded. Of course, that made it sound as though the man did no work at all and that would have been an inaccurate observation: he may not have enjoyed the duties he had as a baron and often passed them over to someone else whom he considered more willing but Rafail made the effort to perform them himself at least once every so often. Father had to see that he was at least trying, else he feared the province would be taken away from him as punishment for his incompetence.
Charms and charisma were not used solely for the purpose of enticing women but were useful for gaining friends as well, and he had amassed a fair few. It was true that plenty of the people in Rafail’s inner circle were interested solely in the potential of power and wealth - a warning his father had given him early on in his life, not wanting any of his three children to fall prey to another’s trickery, ensuring that they were aware of how difficult it was to trust - but he didn’t care for their intentions. Those who wanted something in return usually wanted to please, and he was nothing if not willing to let them try and make him happy. This tended to mean that, more often than not, whatever Rafail wanted to do was what they all did, and he was just fine with the idea of that because it meant that he was hardly ever disappointed. He hated being disappointed.
The Marikas family owned a lot of lands which, whilst also an appealing thought because of all the power that came with it, made it more complicated to choose a destination when he was in the mood to travel. Arcasis was always entertaining, Corinth was truly beautiful, and Messaly, well, Messaly was home to some of Rafail’s favourite women and some of the best times he’d had but, for once, he wasn’t in the mood to visit any land his family owned. No, he had decided to expand his horizons, so to call it, and the group of them would be going hunting in Aetaea. It was a province he had been to a few times before and the place was not only gorgeous but excellent for hunting and the whiling away of hours.
The journey had been tedious enough but they had arrived in relatively good time, the six men, their few hunting dogs and the two slaves that had been deemed necessary to make the trip somewhat more bearable. Rafail rode at the front of the group on his handsome, new grey Messara, a small frown growing on his face as he noted that, despite the speed of their journey, the hour was growing late and the group would most likely be needing to find a place to rest, something which, given the impulse with which this trip had been planned, had not exactly been considered. At this point, they would have to find someone willing - or unwilling, Rafail didn't really think they had much of a choice - to offer them accommodation for the evening.
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Every so often, Rafail needed a break from his very complicated life. Few people seemed to understand that sleeping around, drinking and generally doing whatever you willed was, in reality, far more gruelling than it sounded. Of course, that made it sound as though the man did no work at all and that would have been an inaccurate observation: he may not have enjoyed the duties he had as a baron and often passed them over to someone else whom he considered more willing but Rafail made the effort to perform them himself at least once every so often. Father had to see that he was at least trying, else he feared the province would be taken away from him as punishment for his incompetence.
Charms and charisma were not used solely for the purpose of enticing women but were useful for gaining friends as well, and he had amassed a fair few. It was true that plenty of the people in Rafail’s inner circle were interested solely in the potential of power and wealth - a warning his father had given him early on in his life, not wanting any of his three children to fall prey to another’s trickery, ensuring that they were aware of how difficult it was to trust - but he didn’t care for their intentions. Those who wanted something in return usually wanted to please, and he was nothing if not willing to let them try and make him happy. This tended to mean that, more often than not, whatever Rafail wanted to do was what they all did, and he was just fine with the idea of that because it meant that he was hardly ever disappointed. He hated being disappointed.
The Marikas family owned a lot of lands which, whilst also an appealing thought because of all the power that came with it, made it more complicated to choose a destination when he was in the mood to travel. Arcasis was always entertaining, Corinth was truly beautiful, and Messaly, well, Messaly was home to some of Rafail’s favourite women and some of the best times he’d had but, for once, he wasn’t in the mood to visit any land his family owned. No, he had decided to expand his horizons, so to call it, and the group of them would be going hunting in Aetaea. It was a province he had been to a few times before and the place was not only gorgeous but excellent for hunting and the whiling away of hours.
The journey had been tedious enough but they had arrived in relatively good time, the six men, their few hunting dogs and the two slaves that had been deemed necessary to make the trip somewhat more bearable. Rafail rode at the front of the group on his handsome, new grey Messara, a small frown growing on his face as he noted that, despite the speed of their journey, the hour was growing late and the group would most likely be needing to find a place to rest, something which, given the impulse with which this trip had been planned, had not exactly been considered. At this point, they would have to find someone willing - or unwilling, Rafail didn't really think they had much of a choice - to offer them accommodation for the evening.
Every so often, Rafail needed a break from his very complicated life. Few people seemed to understand that sleeping around, drinking and generally doing whatever you willed was, in reality, far more gruelling than it sounded. Of course, that made it sound as though the man did no work at all and that would have been an inaccurate observation: he may not have enjoyed the duties he had as a baron and often passed them over to someone else whom he considered more willing but Rafail made the effort to perform them himself at least once every so often. Father had to see that he was at least trying, else he feared the province would be taken away from him as punishment for his incompetence.
Charms and charisma were not used solely for the purpose of enticing women but were useful for gaining friends as well, and he had amassed a fair few. It was true that plenty of the people in Rafail’s inner circle were interested solely in the potential of power and wealth - a warning his father had given him early on in his life, not wanting any of his three children to fall prey to another’s trickery, ensuring that they were aware of how difficult it was to trust - but he didn’t care for their intentions. Those who wanted something in return usually wanted to please, and he was nothing if not willing to let them try and make him happy. This tended to mean that, more often than not, whatever Rafail wanted to do was what they all did, and he was just fine with the idea of that because it meant that he was hardly ever disappointed. He hated being disappointed.
The Marikas family owned a lot of lands which, whilst also an appealing thought because of all the power that came with it, made it more complicated to choose a destination when he was in the mood to travel. Arcasis was always entertaining, Corinth was truly beautiful, and Messaly, well, Messaly was home to some of Rafail’s favourite women and some of the best times he’d had but, for once, he wasn’t in the mood to visit any land his family owned. No, he had decided to expand his horizons, so to call it, and the group of them would be going hunting in Aetaea. It was a province he had been to a few times before and the place was not only gorgeous but excellent for hunting and the whiling away of hours.
The journey had been tedious enough but they had arrived in relatively good time, the six men, their few hunting dogs and the two slaves that had been deemed necessary to make the trip somewhat more bearable. Rafail rode at the front of the group on his handsome, new grey Messara, a small frown growing on his face as he noted that, despite the speed of their journey, the hour was growing late and the group would most likely be needing to find a place to rest, something which, given the impulse with which this trip had been planned, had not exactly been considered. At this point, they would have to find someone willing - or unwilling, Rafail didn't really think they had much of a choice - to offer them accommodation for the evening.
Iris had been in the forest for a number of hours. It was one of the only times that she was able to enjoy the quiet and the solace of just being with herself. Save for the presence of the few slaves who stayed far enough back not to bother her, and the couple of hunting hounds that seemed to bound ahead every so often to explore. A soft whistle brought them back, tails wagging. Soft growls of excitement low in their throats. She kept a keen eye on her hounds and the road ahead.
The black mare she rode was one of the few gentle riders in the stables, and the gentleness was what she had craved when she'd chosen to go out that evening. With just a few parting words to her father and she'd been out on the trails, able to breathe against the pressure of her father's work and her own duties.
The world was getting darker now, the onset of evening starting to lead Iris and her small group back toward the mansion. While they hadn't actually hunted anything this time, she'd kept her bow with one of the slaves just in case something had come up. He seemed content to carry it, sticking close and remaining alert. It was unlikely to come across trouble, but it never hurt to be even the slightest bit prepared.
But there was someone else on the road, and at the sound of shuffling and hooves, Iris had turned her horse toward the sounds, nudging her forward without another thought. She ignored the protests of her companions until she had cut them off. Her gown draped lightly over the side of her horse. Expression steeled, she observed the group with silent condemnation.
"Who goes?" Iris blurted out without any hesitation whatsoever. She wasn't too keen on not knowing who was so close to her father's mansion. Especially without any warning or letter ahead of them.
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Iris had been in the forest for a number of hours. It was one of the only times that she was able to enjoy the quiet and the solace of just being with herself. Save for the presence of the few slaves who stayed far enough back not to bother her, and the couple of hunting hounds that seemed to bound ahead every so often to explore. A soft whistle brought them back, tails wagging. Soft growls of excitement low in their throats. She kept a keen eye on her hounds and the road ahead.
The black mare she rode was one of the few gentle riders in the stables, and the gentleness was what she had craved when she'd chosen to go out that evening. With just a few parting words to her father and she'd been out on the trails, able to breathe against the pressure of her father's work and her own duties.
The world was getting darker now, the onset of evening starting to lead Iris and her small group back toward the mansion. While they hadn't actually hunted anything this time, she'd kept her bow with one of the slaves just in case something had come up. He seemed content to carry it, sticking close and remaining alert. It was unlikely to come across trouble, but it never hurt to be even the slightest bit prepared.
But there was someone else on the road, and at the sound of shuffling and hooves, Iris had turned her horse toward the sounds, nudging her forward without another thought. She ignored the protests of her companions until she had cut them off. Her gown draped lightly over the side of her horse. Expression steeled, she observed the group with silent condemnation.
"Who goes?" Iris blurted out without any hesitation whatsoever. She wasn't too keen on not knowing who was so close to her father's mansion. Especially without any warning or letter ahead of them.
Iris had been in the forest for a number of hours. It was one of the only times that she was able to enjoy the quiet and the solace of just being with herself. Save for the presence of the few slaves who stayed far enough back not to bother her, and the couple of hunting hounds that seemed to bound ahead every so often to explore. A soft whistle brought them back, tails wagging. Soft growls of excitement low in their throats. She kept a keen eye on her hounds and the road ahead.
The black mare she rode was one of the few gentle riders in the stables, and the gentleness was what she had craved when she'd chosen to go out that evening. With just a few parting words to her father and she'd been out on the trails, able to breathe against the pressure of her father's work and her own duties.
The world was getting darker now, the onset of evening starting to lead Iris and her small group back toward the mansion. While they hadn't actually hunted anything this time, she'd kept her bow with one of the slaves just in case something had come up. He seemed content to carry it, sticking close and remaining alert. It was unlikely to come across trouble, but it never hurt to be even the slightest bit prepared.
But there was someone else on the road, and at the sound of shuffling and hooves, Iris had turned her horse toward the sounds, nudging her forward without another thought. She ignored the protests of her companions until she had cut them off. Her gown draped lightly over the side of her horse. Expression steeled, she observed the group with silent condemnation.
"Who goes?" Iris blurted out without any hesitation whatsoever. She wasn't too keen on not knowing who was so close to her father's mansion. Especially without any warning or letter ahead of them.
They had only been travelling for a short while, Rafail's already thin patience growing even thinner by the second, when he heard the woman's voice calling out. The sheer fact that it was a woman's voice he was hearing already surprised him - he would not have expected one to be present in the midst of a forest at this time of day - but he wasn't willing to complain given the time. He was tired and bored and in dire need of entertainment. As for the rest of his party, well, he wasn't all too bothered by how they were feeling at the moment, really only concerned by how displeased he was. But, as he slowed his horse to see who it was had addressed them so rudely, he was even shocked to note that this woman was riding, and that was not an activity he at all considered appropriate for a woman. But, given that there was no other present to attend to them, he supposed he would simply have to accept the fact.
"Lord Rafail Marikas of Athenia, Baron of Thesnia. Son of Panos of Marikas," he announced imperiously, giving her both his full title and his father's name in case she didn't recognise it right away. He had never liked people who didn't know who he was. It didn't tend to happen very often back in Athenia, but in these rural communities, you could never know. Poor people, they weren't all that intelligent. "My companions, these five..." He waved behind him to indicate his friends, if she hadn't noticed them just yet. "I have generously brought them on my hunting trip. Unfortunately, due to certain idiocy on their behalf-" -rather, Rafail's inability to plan his time appropriately, but everyone else would willingly take the blame for him- "-they got the timings all wrong and night is falling upon us. We require a place to stay."
Rafail drew himself up to sit taller on his horse, staring at her down the length of his nose. "There are six of us. I require my own rooms, they, mm, they can share. Arion, my darling, will need accommodating as well. Separate from the others, I don't like him mixing." He patted the neck of his ride, glancing towards the image of a mansion he could see some ways in the distance. "Do you have a private bath? It's been an excruciatingly long day. Oh, and some sort of meal?" And then, of course, the most important note which he had neglected up until then, "I will need to be introduced to whoever is your highest authority."
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They had only been travelling for a short while, Rafail's already thin patience growing even thinner by the second, when he heard the woman's voice calling out. The sheer fact that it was a woman's voice he was hearing already surprised him - he would not have expected one to be present in the midst of a forest at this time of day - but he wasn't willing to complain given the time. He was tired and bored and in dire need of entertainment. As for the rest of his party, well, he wasn't all too bothered by how they were feeling at the moment, really only concerned by how displeased he was. But, as he slowed his horse to see who it was had addressed them so rudely, he was even shocked to note that this woman was riding, and that was not an activity he at all considered appropriate for a woman. But, given that there was no other present to attend to them, he supposed he would simply have to accept the fact.
"Lord Rafail Marikas of Athenia, Baron of Thesnia. Son of Panos of Marikas," he announced imperiously, giving her both his full title and his father's name in case she didn't recognise it right away. He had never liked people who didn't know who he was. It didn't tend to happen very often back in Athenia, but in these rural communities, you could never know. Poor people, they weren't all that intelligent. "My companions, these five..." He waved behind him to indicate his friends, if she hadn't noticed them just yet. "I have generously brought them on my hunting trip. Unfortunately, due to certain idiocy on their behalf-" -rather, Rafail's inability to plan his time appropriately, but everyone else would willingly take the blame for him- "-they got the timings all wrong and night is falling upon us. We require a place to stay."
Rafail drew himself up to sit taller on his horse, staring at her down the length of his nose. "There are six of us. I require my own rooms, they, mm, they can share. Arion, my darling, will need accommodating as well. Separate from the others, I don't like him mixing." He patted the neck of his ride, glancing towards the image of a mansion he could see some ways in the distance. "Do you have a private bath? It's been an excruciatingly long day. Oh, and some sort of meal?" And then, of course, the most important note which he had neglected up until then, "I will need to be introduced to whoever is your highest authority."
They had only been travelling for a short while, Rafail's already thin patience growing even thinner by the second, when he heard the woman's voice calling out. The sheer fact that it was a woman's voice he was hearing already surprised him - he would not have expected one to be present in the midst of a forest at this time of day - but he wasn't willing to complain given the time. He was tired and bored and in dire need of entertainment. As for the rest of his party, well, he wasn't all too bothered by how they were feeling at the moment, really only concerned by how displeased he was. But, as he slowed his horse to see who it was had addressed them so rudely, he was even shocked to note that this woman was riding, and that was not an activity he at all considered appropriate for a woman. But, given that there was no other present to attend to them, he supposed he would simply have to accept the fact.
"Lord Rafail Marikas of Athenia, Baron of Thesnia. Son of Panos of Marikas," he announced imperiously, giving her both his full title and his father's name in case she didn't recognise it right away. He had never liked people who didn't know who he was. It didn't tend to happen very often back in Athenia, but in these rural communities, you could never know. Poor people, they weren't all that intelligent. "My companions, these five..." He waved behind him to indicate his friends, if she hadn't noticed them just yet. "I have generously brought them on my hunting trip. Unfortunately, due to certain idiocy on their behalf-" -rather, Rafail's inability to plan his time appropriately, but everyone else would willingly take the blame for him- "-they got the timings all wrong and night is falling upon us. We require a place to stay."
Rafail drew himself up to sit taller on his horse, staring at her down the length of his nose. "There are six of us. I require my own rooms, they, mm, they can share. Arion, my darling, will need accommodating as well. Separate from the others, I don't like him mixing." He patted the neck of his ride, glancing towards the image of a mansion he could see some ways in the distance. "Do you have a private bath? It's been an excruciatingly long day. Oh, and some sort of meal?" And then, of course, the most important note which he had neglected up until then, "I will need to be introduced to whoever is your highest authority."
The Baron's daughter would have sneered had she not known her place. Known that appearances were everything. Still though, Iris couldn't help but feel that spark of irritation at the man and his companions that stood across from her. Settling herself higher up onto her mare, her green eyes watched the royal with a fire that was nearly unconstrained in every regard. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was royals who didn't know how to stop asking for blood from stone.
Glancing backward toward the two slaves standing there, she took it in stride. "Draco, Euclid," she drawled, keeping her gaze firmly planted on Rafail, "Run ahead to the mansion and tell the kitchen staff that we have company. I'm sure they will be delighted to entertain uninvited, unannounced guests," she noted levelly. And like that, they were off in the direction of the mansion.
Pulling lightly on the reins of her mare, she turned slightly, glancing the group up and down just slightly. The slightest of smiles played on her lips, "How unfortunate for you, my lord. I do not have two rooms to give you. They are otherwise occupied. You shall have to settle for one to share." Was she being rash? Possibly. But with all of the demands the man was making, Iris wasn't entirely keen on yielding to him.
Making a motion for them to follow her, she started to lead them in the direction of the mansion. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts, move horses in the stables around. Knowledge of which horses did and didn't get along with one another in close quarters on her mind. Could she move around some of the chambers to accommodate two rooms? Would she give up her own quarters if that wasn't sufficient? If Rafail was too stubborn to take what she could give him?
Hopefully not.
Her hands gripped the reins of her mare tighter than before, her knuckles turning white with the pressure. She said nothing else as she lead them through the forest. It wasn't long before they were back at the mansion. A few of the staff rushed over, helping her down off her horse and then leading the mare away. "Once the lord and his friends dismount, you can take their horses to the stables. Move the stallion to the outside pen and the two pregnant mares into the same stall," she noted, breathing out slowly. Brushing her hands down her gown, she turned to face the men.
"There is a private bath in the west wing," Iris had settled her hands in front of her, lifting her chin. She let the slight breeze through the trees calm her. "The servants will prepare the room and the kitchens will be preparing your meals. As for my father, the Baron, he is unavailable. He shall entertain you should you stay well into the morning," she finally finished, glancing down at the hounds who had swarmed around her. A slight whistle had them bounding in the direction of the stables.
"Do you require anything else, my lord?"
The tone wasn't exactly kind.
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The Baron's daughter would have sneered had she not known her place. Known that appearances were everything. Still though, Iris couldn't help but feel that spark of irritation at the man and his companions that stood across from her. Settling herself higher up onto her mare, her green eyes watched the royal with a fire that was nearly unconstrained in every regard. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was royals who didn't know how to stop asking for blood from stone.
Glancing backward toward the two slaves standing there, she took it in stride. "Draco, Euclid," she drawled, keeping her gaze firmly planted on Rafail, "Run ahead to the mansion and tell the kitchen staff that we have company. I'm sure they will be delighted to entertain uninvited, unannounced guests," she noted levelly. And like that, they were off in the direction of the mansion.
Pulling lightly on the reins of her mare, she turned slightly, glancing the group up and down just slightly. The slightest of smiles played on her lips, "How unfortunate for you, my lord. I do not have two rooms to give you. They are otherwise occupied. You shall have to settle for one to share." Was she being rash? Possibly. But with all of the demands the man was making, Iris wasn't entirely keen on yielding to him.
Making a motion for them to follow her, she started to lead them in the direction of the mansion. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts, move horses in the stables around. Knowledge of which horses did and didn't get along with one another in close quarters on her mind. Could she move around some of the chambers to accommodate two rooms? Would she give up her own quarters if that wasn't sufficient? If Rafail was too stubborn to take what she could give him?
Hopefully not.
Her hands gripped the reins of her mare tighter than before, her knuckles turning white with the pressure. She said nothing else as she lead them through the forest. It wasn't long before they were back at the mansion. A few of the staff rushed over, helping her down off her horse and then leading the mare away. "Once the lord and his friends dismount, you can take their horses to the stables. Move the stallion to the outside pen and the two pregnant mares into the same stall," she noted, breathing out slowly. Brushing her hands down her gown, she turned to face the men.
"There is a private bath in the west wing," Iris had settled her hands in front of her, lifting her chin. She let the slight breeze through the trees calm her. "The servants will prepare the room and the kitchens will be preparing your meals. As for my father, the Baron, he is unavailable. He shall entertain you should you stay well into the morning," she finally finished, glancing down at the hounds who had swarmed around her. A slight whistle had them bounding in the direction of the stables.
"Do you require anything else, my lord?"
The tone wasn't exactly kind.
The Baron's daughter would have sneered had she not known her place. Known that appearances were everything. Still though, Iris couldn't help but feel that spark of irritation at the man and his companions that stood across from her. Settling herself higher up onto her mare, her green eyes watched the royal with a fire that was nearly unconstrained in every regard. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was royals who didn't know how to stop asking for blood from stone.
Glancing backward toward the two slaves standing there, she took it in stride. "Draco, Euclid," she drawled, keeping her gaze firmly planted on Rafail, "Run ahead to the mansion and tell the kitchen staff that we have company. I'm sure they will be delighted to entertain uninvited, unannounced guests," she noted levelly. And like that, they were off in the direction of the mansion.
Pulling lightly on the reins of her mare, she turned slightly, glancing the group up and down just slightly. The slightest of smiles played on her lips, "How unfortunate for you, my lord. I do not have two rooms to give you. They are otherwise occupied. You shall have to settle for one to share." Was she being rash? Possibly. But with all of the demands the man was making, Iris wasn't entirely keen on yielding to him.
Making a motion for them to follow her, she started to lead them in the direction of the mansion. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts, move horses in the stables around. Knowledge of which horses did and didn't get along with one another in close quarters on her mind. Could she move around some of the chambers to accommodate two rooms? Would she give up her own quarters if that wasn't sufficient? If Rafail was too stubborn to take what she could give him?
Hopefully not.
Her hands gripped the reins of her mare tighter than before, her knuckles turning white with the pressure. She said nothing else as she lead them through the forest. It wasn't long before they were back at the mansion. A few of the staff rushed over, helping her down off her horse and then leading the mare away. "Once the lord and his friends dismount, you can take their horses to the stables. Move the stallion to the outside pen and the two pregnant mares into the same stall," she noted, breathing out slowly. Brushing her hands down her gown, she turned to face the men.
"There is a private bath in the west wing," Iris had settled her hands in front of her, lifting her chin. She let the slight breeze through the trees calm her. "The servants will prepare the room and the kitchens will be preparing your meals. As for my father, the Baron, he is unavailable. He shall entertain you should you stay well into the morning," she finally finished, glancing down at the hounds who had swarmed around her. A slight whistle had them bounding in the direction of the stables.
"Do you require anything else, my lord?"
The tone wasn't exactly kind.
Good, it appeared the Marikas name still had traction even in a place as empty as this. Of course, Rafail would never have expected anything less but he enjoyed having the reassurance. He could hardly imagine what he would do if there was ever a day when his family name couldn't get him as far along as he was so used to. As far as he was concerned, he was born into privilege and he deserved everything in the world for it, whether or not anyone else agreed. He could tell already from the girl's words and tone that she didn't seem to share this belief but he honestly didn't care. She would have to learn that some people were simply better than others.
He sat through the instructions to her staff with a bored expression resting on his face, really not interested in what she had to say. It was taking far too long. Still, he knew when was the moment for politeness, so he was quiet while she relayed the information, nudging his horse forwards to follow after the woman, his mind running through what she had said about rooms. It really wouldn't do for him. "No, I cannot share with them. I don't wish to." Rafail turned to glance behind at the group he had brought with him, almost as an afterthought of whether or not he wanted to share despite already having made the decision. "No. I'm sure they would be more than willing to sleep in the servants' quarters so I may take the room. Wouldn't you?" He glared at them as he asked, waiting for a positive response to the question which, as ever, he promptly received before turning back to their host for the night. "Good. Although, I must admit, I'm surprised to hear that you have no spare rooms but the one. Father always believes it best to keep a few spare for visitors at our estate."
Rafail let her lead them through the forest, glad that they had someone to aid them, unwilling as he was to be left clueless in the darkness of the woods. Once they arrived, he was quicker to dismount than the usual, eager to finally get inside. "I do not yet know how long we plan to stay," he replied, hands on his hips as he watched Arion be led away and waited for an invitation to enter the house, especially so now that the chill of night was starting to become more evident. Gesturing at the two slaves he had brought with him on the trip, laden with all the additional supplies he had deemed necessary for the journey, he added: "They will aid yours. They have everything I require." More or less. There would always be something more. 'Satisfied' was not a word that came up all too often in Rafail's vocabulary.
When she asked if there was anything else he wanted in a tone that was rather less than friendly, he frowned, unsure if he had indeed missed something essential. This woman was putting him off, so angry as she seemed to be, not at all how he believed a woman should be acting. Speaking of. "Women. I have not had one since this morning and I am in dire need of a new plaything, not to mention my friends should be exhausted as well. If you would not mind sending word to the nearest whorehouse, unless, of course, you have qualms about bringing such creatures into the house, in which case you would do me quite nicely yourself. I wouldn't be opposed to such an attractive woman sharing my bed for the night...were you to clean yourself up first, that is." Oh, and in case there were still any doubts about the matter of their being put up for the night, Rafail moved a little closer to their host, easily towering over her by what must have been at least a foot, and carried on, "I would be willing to pay you substantially for your hospitality and service, if you provide well enough." Now, could they finally move inside?
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Good, it appeared the Marikas name still had traction even in a place as empty as this. Of course, Rafail would never have expected anything less but he enjoyed having the reassurance. He could hardly imagine what he would do if there was ever a day when his family name couldn't get him as far along as he was so used to. As far as he was concerned, he was born into privilege and he deserved everything in the world for it, whether or not anyone else agreed. He could tell already from the girl's words and tone that she didn't seem to share this belief but he honestly didn't care. She would have to learn that some people were simply better than others.
He sat through the instructions to her staff with a bored expression resting on his face, really not interested in what she had to say. It was taking far too long. Still, he knew when was the moment for politeness, so he was quiet while she relayed the information, nudging his horse forwards to follow after the woman, his mind running through what she had said about rooms. It really wouldn't do for him. "No, I cannot share with them. I don't wish to." Rafail turned to glance behind at the group he had brought with him, almost as an afterthought of whether or not he wanted to share despite already having made the decision. "No. I'm sure they would be more than willing to sleep in the servants' quarters so I may take the room. Wouldn't you?" He glared at them as he asked, waiting for a positive response to the question which, as ever, he promptly received before turning back to their host for the night. "Good. Although, I must admit, I'm surprised to hear that you have no spare rooms but the one. Father always believes it best to keep a few spare for visitors at our estate."
Rafail let her lead them through the forest, glad that they had someone to aid them, unwilling as he was to be left clueless in the darkness of the woods. Once they arrived, he was quicker to dismount than the usual, eager to finally get inside. "I do not yet know how long we plan to stay," he replied, hands on his hips as he watched Arion be led away and waited for an invitation to enter the house, especially so now that the chill of night was starting to become more evident. Gesturing at the two slaves he had brought with him on the trip, laden with all the additional supplies he had deemed necessary for the journey, he added: "They will aid yours. They have everything I require." More or less. There would always be something more. 'Satisfied' was not a word that came up all too often in Rafail's vocabulary.
When she asked if there was anything else he wanted in a tone that was rather less than friendly, he frowned, unsure if he had indeed missed something essential. This woman was putting him off, so angry as she seemed to be, not at all how he believed a woman should be acting. Speaking of. "Women. I have not had one since this morning and I am in dire need of a new plaything, not to mention my friends should be exhausted as well. If you would not mind sending word to the nearest whorehouse, unless, of course, you have qualms about bringing such creatures into the house, in which case you would do me quite nicely yourself. I wouldn't be opposed to such an attractive woman sharing my bed for the night...were you to clean yourself up first, that is." Oh, and in case there were still any doubts about the matter of their being put up for the night, Rafail moved a little closer to their host, easily towering over her by what must have been at least a foot, and carried on, "I would be willing to pay you substantially for your hospitality and service, if you provide well enough." Now, could they finally move inside?
Good, it appeared the Marikas name still had traction even in a place as empty as this. Of course, Rafail would never have expected anything less but he enjoyed having the reassurance. He could hardly imagine what he would do if there was ever a day when his family name couldn't get him as far along as he was so used to. As far as he was concerned, he was born into privilege and he deserved everything in the world for it, whether or not anyone else agreed. He could tell already from the girl's words and tone that she didn't seem to share this belief but he honestly didn't care. She would have to learn that some people were simply better than others.
He sat through the instructions to her staff with a bored expression resting on his face, really not interested in what she had to say. It was taking far too long. Still, he knew when was the moment for politeness, so he was quiet while she relayed the information, nudging his horse forwards to follow after the woman, his mind running through what she had said about rooms. It really wouldn't do for him. "No, I cannot share with them. I don't wish to." Rafail turned to glance behind at the group he had brought with him, almost as an afterthought of whether or not he wanted to share despite already having made the decision. "No. I'm sure they would be more than willing to sleep in the servants' quarters so I may take the room. Wouldn't you?" He glared at them as he asked, waiting for a positive response to the question which, as ever, he promptly received before turning back to their host for the night. "Good. Although, I must admit, I'm surprised to hear that you have no spare rooms but the one. Father always believes it best to keep a few spare for visitors at our estate."
Rafail let her lead them through the forest, glad that they had someone to aid them, unwilling as he was to be left clueless in the darkness of the woods. Once they arrived, he was quicker to dismount than the usual, eager to finally get inside. "I do not yet know how long we plan to stay," he replied, hands on his hips as he watched Arion be led away and waited for an invitation to enter the house, especially so now that the chill of night was starting to become more evident. Gesturing at the two slaves he had brought with him on the trip, laden with all the additional supplies he had deemed necessary for the journey, he added: "They will aid yours. They have everything I require." More or less. There would always be something more. 'Satisfied' was not a word that came up all too often in Rafail's vocabulary.
When she asked if there was anything else he wanted in a tone that was rather less than friendly, he frowned, unsure if he had indeed missed something essential. This woman was putting him off, so angry as she seemed to be, not at all how he believed a woman should be acting. Speaking of. "Women. I have not had one since this morning and I am in dire need of a new plaything, not to mention my friends should be exhausted as well. If you would not mind sending word to the nearest whorehouse, unless, of course, you have qualms about bringing such creatures into the house, in which case you would do me quite nicely yourself. I wouldn't be opposed to such an attractive woman sharing my bed for the night...were you to clean yourself up first, that is." Oh, and in case there were still any doubts about the matter of their being put up for the night, Rafail moved a little closer to their host, easily towering over her by what must have been at least a foot, and carried on, "I would be willing to pay you substantially for your hospitality and service, if you provide well enough." Now, could they finally move inside?
"The servants quarters are full," Iris noted calmly, staring up at the man who now loomed over here. There was a flurry of activity on the estate that Iris was acutely aware of. They already had guests visiting from another province and these six were just an additional burden that Iris was unsure of how to properly deal with. "As there are already visitors in our guest rooms. One room is all I can give you, my lord. Had you sent word ahead of you, things might have been worked differently in your favor," her tone took on one of levelness, calm.
There was one thing she could do to solve the room situation. It had occurred to her on the ride over, though she was still abhorrent toward the idea.
Her gaze drifted away, giving a silent nod to a small group of servants who had paused with questioning looks. They were on their way as soon as they got confirmation, slipping up into the mansion and to their duties. Iris waited silently as his friends caught up to him before turning on her heel and leading them into the mansion as well. "Sophia," she noted as they made it into the front room. "Turn over my room for our guest. Fresh linens and pillows," Iris hummed, not looking at the group.
She had all but ignored the request for women up to this point.
It was such a childish thing to demand. And the nerve of him to assume that she would sleep with him? It set her on edge. He apparently had no boundaries, no qualms about taking and taking until there was little left to give. The little voice in her head spoke of danger. Iris wouldn't get too close if she had anything to say about it.
"As for women, there is no whorehouse anywhere near the mansion," she pointed out, her brow furrowed. Tilting her head, her eyes full of challenge, "And the servants and slaves are off limits lest you wish to sleep out in the forest, my lord. My father's house rules," she added. It wasn't a lie. The Baron had always been strict about his guests not messing with the staff. There had been a handful of times where the Baron, in his rage, had ousted his guests for breaking the simplest rule of his home. Keep your hands off the staff.
"Food and drink, however, are yours to consume as you please. There is plenty to go around. Perhaps you can find exhaustion and merry in your own company," Iris couldn't help but smirk just slightly. Motioning one of the staff over, she motioned to Rafail's five companions. "Lead them to their quarters and then bring them their meal. You," she set her gaze back on Rafail, "Can follow me."
It was easier to keep her anger in check with more people about. Inwardly, she hoped the other nobles visiting her home would see the shameful way in which the lord had acted. So stubborn on the fact that he could not room with his companions that the lady of the house was forced to give up her own quarters.
Insolent lords.
They irritated her.
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"The servants quarters are full," Iris noted calmly, staring up at the man who now loomed over here. There was a flurry of activity on the estate that Iris was acutely aware of. They already had guests visiting from another province and these six were just an additional burden that Iris was unsure of how to properly deal with. "As there are already visitors in our guest rooms. One room is all I can give you, my lord. Had you sent word ahead of you, things might have been worked differently in your favor," her tone took on one of levelness, calm.
There was one thing she could do to solve the room situation. It had occurred to her on the ride over, though she was still abhorrent toward the idea.
Her gaze drifted away, giving a silent nod to a small group of servants who had paused with questioning looks. They were on their way as soon as they got confirmation, slipping up into the mansion and to their duties. Iris waited silently as his friends caught up to him before turning on her heel and leading them into the mansion as well. "Sophia," she noted as they made it into the front room. "Turn over my room for our guest. Fresh linens and pillows," Iris hummed, not looking at the group.
She had all but ignored the request for women up to this point.
It was such a childish thing to demand. And the nerve of him to assume that she would sleep with him? It set her on edge. He apparently had no boundaries, no qualms about taking and taking until there was little left to give. The little voice in her head spoke of danger. Iris wouldn't get too close if she had anything to say about it.
"As for women, there is no whorehouse anywhere near the mansion," she pointed out, her brow furrowed. Tilting her head, her eyes full of challenge, "And the servants and slaves are off limits lest you wish to sleep out in the forest, my lord. My father's house rules," she added. It wasn't a lie. The Baron had always been strict about his guests not messing with the staff. There had been a handful of times where the Baron, in his rage, had ousted his guests for breaking the simplest rule of his home. Keep your hands off the staff.
"Food and drink, however, are yours to consume as you please. There is plenty to go around. Perhaps you can find exhaustion and merry in your own company," Iris couldn't help but smirk just slightly. Motioning one of the staff over, she motioned to Rafail's five companions. "Lead them to their quarters and then bring them their meal. You," she set her gaze back on Rafail, "Can follow me."
It was easier to keep her anger in check with more people about. Inwardly, she hoped the other nobles visiting her home would see the shameful way in which the lord had acted. So stubborn on the fact that he could not room with his companions that the lady of the house was forced to give up her own quarters.
Insolent lords.
They irritated her.
"The servants quarters are full," Iris noted calmly, staring up at the man who now loomed over here. There was a flurry of activity on the estate that Iris was acutely aware of. They already had guests visiting from another province and these six were just an additional burden that Iris was unsure of how to properly deal with. "As there are already visitors in our guest rooms. One room is all I can give you, my lord. Had you sent word ahead of you, things might have been worked differently in your favor," her tone took on one of levelness, calm.
There was one thing she could do to solve the room situation. It had occurred to her on the ride over, though she was still abhorrent toward the idea.
Her gaze drifted away, giving a silent nod to a small group of servants who had paused with questioning looks. They were on their way as soon as they got confirmation, slipping up into the mansion and to their duties. Iris waited silently as his friends caught up to him before turning on her heel and leading them into the mansion as well. "Sophia," she noted as they made it into the front room. "Turn over my room for our guest. Fresh linens and pillows," Iris hummed, not looking at the group.
She had all but ignored the request for women up to this point.
It was such a childish thing to demand. And the nerve of him to assume that she would sleep with him? It set her on edge. He apparently had no boundaries, no qualms about taking and taking until there was little left to give. The little voice in her head spoke of danger. Iris wouldn't get too close if she had anything to say about it.
"As for women, there is no whorehouse anywhere near the mansion," she pointed out, her brow furrowed. Tilting her head, her eyes full of challenge, "And the servants and slaves are off limits lest you wish to sleep out in the forest, my lord. My father's house rules," she added. It wasn't a lie. The Baron had always been strict about his guests not messing with the staff. There had been a handful of times where the Baron, in his rage, had ousted his guests for breaking the simplest rule of his home. Keep your hands off the staff.
"Food and drink, however, are yours to consume as you please. There is plenty to go around. Perhaps you can find exhaustion and merry in your own company," Iris couldn't help but smirk just slightly. Motioning one of the staff over, she motioned to Rafail's five companions. "Lead them to their quarters and then bring them their meal. You," she set her gaze back on Rafail, "Can follow me."
It was easier to keep her anger in check with more people about. Inwardly, she hoped the other nobles visiting her home would see the shameful way in which the lord had acted. So stubborn on the fact that he could not room with his companions that the lady of the house was forced to give up her own quarters.
Insolent lords.
They irritated her.
"And you assume that your other guests are of greater importance?" Rafail objected, quite sure that no one of greater significance than he was currently visiting the area, although he had no way of knowing for sure. Call it hubris. "As for sending word ahead, I am afraid we didn't expect to be caught up in the night like this, so doing so would have been impossible, not to mention I haven't the slightest idea as to who you are. As I said, you should have been prepared for the potential of guests in such a popular hunting area. Your idiocy and lack of foresight is not my fault nor my problem."
It seemed, however, that despite the woman's lack of planning, a room was being organised for him, and without too much fuss. He thought she could have offered the room sooner - it was the sort of thing he would have pretended to be willing to offer in his own home, were he not so sure there were plenty of other rooms available - but at least it was getting done and all six of them would have somewhere to sleep that, as far as he was aware, was passable at least. How passable exactly could be decided once they were inside. Rafail wasn't one to make his decisions with almost nothing to go on. He preferred to have all the details when it came to anything so that he could nitpick and criticise thoroughly until he deemed everything perfect.
Her next words, as they moved inside the building, were disappointing, to say the least. How anyone could possibly survive in such a dull, rural area without any kind of female entertainment was a genuine mystery to him and the fact that there was nowhere nearby that could quench his thirst was nothing less than a disappointment. This was the most common problem with leaving the city and something that annoyed Rafail to no end: you would assume that basic amenities would be provided for visitors! "You have nothing at all?" he repeated, an eyebrow raising as he stopped walking and crossed his arms in disbelief. "You provide me with nothing to begin with and now you say I cannot even amuse myself with the staff? I don't believe you understand our situation. We've been travelling for so long and I am simply so exhausted. I need something to...relax myself. If you cannot provide, then what am I to do? Or who, rather?" Rafail reached over to place a hand gently on her shoulder, tilting his head to one side with the same expression on his face that he'd used to manipulate the nursemaids when he'd been younger. "Is there nothing you can do?"
The girl's continued rudeness had Rafail frowning further, though he decided to say nothing more. It wasn't of any concern to him what his friends chose to do when alone in their room. If they wanted to fuck each other all night then so be it. Instead, he followed after to his host's chambers, taking in the details of her home as they walked, silently judging everything. He was quite sure his own estate was not only larger but more magnificent in its decoration than this, and he couldn't help but sneer at the lack of extravagance compared to the city. "Are all the country estates as...modest as this?"
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"And you assume that your other guests are of greater importance?" Rafail objected, quite sure that no one of greater significance than he was currently visiting the area, although he had no way of knowing for sure. Call it hubris. "As for sending word ahead, I am afraid we didn't expect to be caught up in the night like this, so doing so would have been impossible, not to mention I haven't the slightest idea as to who you are. As I said, you should have been prepared for the potential of guests in such a popular hunting area. Your idiocy and lack of foresight is not my fault nor my problem."
It seemed, however, that despite the woman's lack of planning, a room was being organised for him, and without too much fuss. He thought she could have offered the room sooner - it was the sort of thing he would have pretended to be willing to offer in his own home, were he not so sure there were plenty of other rooms available - but at least it was getting done and all six of them would have somewhere to sleep that, as far as he was aware, was passable at least. How passable exactly could be decided once they were inside. Rafail wasn't one to make his decisions with almost nothing to go on. He preferred to have all the details when it came to anything so that he could nitpick and criticise thoroughly until he deemed everything perfect.
Her next words, as they moved inside the building, were disappointing, to say the least. How anyone could possibly survive in such a dull, rural area without any kind of female entertainment was a genuine mystery to him and the fact that there was nowhere nearby that could quench his thirst was nothing less than a disappointment. This was the most common problem with leaving the city and something that annoyed Rafail to no end: you would assume that basic amenities would be provided for visitors! "You have nothing at all?" he repeated, an eyebrow raising as he stopped walking and crossed his arms in disbelief. "You provide me with nothing to begin with and now you say I cannot even amuse myself with the staff? I don't believe you understand our situation. We've been travelling for so long and I am simply so exhausted. I need something to...relax myself. If you cannot provide, then what am I to do? Or who, rather?" Rafail reached over to place a hand gently on her shoulder, tilting his head to one side with the same expression on his face that he'd used to manipulate the nursemaids when he'd been younger. "Is there nothing you can do?"
The girl's continued rudeness had Rafail frowning further, though he decided to say nothing more. It wasn't of any concern to him what his friends chose to do when alone in their room. If they wanted to fuck each other all night then so be it. Instead, he followed after to his host's chambers, taking in the details of her home as they walked, silently judging everything. He was quite sure his own estate was not only larger but more magnificent in its decoration than this, and he couldn't help but sneer at the lack of extravagance compared to the city. "Are all the country estates as...modest as this?"
"And you assume that your other guests are of greater importance?" Rafail objected, quite sure that no one of greater significance than he was currently visiting the area, although he had no way of knowing for sure. Call it hubris. "As for sending word ahead, I am afraid we didn't expect to be caught up in the night like this, so doing so would have been impossible, not to mention I haven't the slightest idea as to who you are. As I said, you should have been prepared for the potential of guests in such a popular hunting area. Your idiocy and lack of foresight is not my fault nor my problem."
It seemed, however, that despite the woman's lack of planning, a room was being organised for him, and without too much fuss. He thought she could have offered the room sooner - it was the sort of thing he would have pretended to be willing to offer in his own home, were he not so sure there were plenty of other rooms available - but at least it was getting done and all six of them would have somewhere to sleep that, as far as he was aware, was passable at least. How passable exactly could be decided once they were inside. Rafail wasn't one to make his decisions with almost nothing to go on. He preferred to have all the details when it came to anything so that he could nitpick and criticise thoroughly until he deemed everything perfect.
Her next words, as they moved inside the building, were disappointing, to say the least. How anyone could possibly survive in such a dull, rural area without any kind of female entertainment was a genuine mystery to him and the fact that there was nowhere nearby that could quench his thirst was nothing less than a disappointment. This was the most common problem with leaving the city and something that annoyed Rafail to no end: you would assume that basic amenities would be provided for visitors! "You have nothing at all?" he repeated, an eyebrow raising as he stopped walking and crossed his arms in disbelief. "You provide me with nothing to begin with and now you say I cannot even amuse myself with the staff? I don't believe you understand our situation. We've been travelling for so long and I am simply so exhausted. I need something to...relax myself. If you cannot provide, then what am I to do? Or who, rather?" Rafail reached over to place a hand gently on her shoulder, tilting his head to one side with the same expression on his face that he'd used to manipulate the nursemaids when he'd been younger. "Is there nothing you can do?"
The girl's continued rudeness had Rafail frowning further, though he decided to say nothing more. It wasn't of any concern to him what his friends chose to do when alone in their room. If they wanted to fuck each other all night then so be it. Instead, he followed after to his host's chambers, taking in the details of her home as they walked, silently judging everything. He was quite sure his own estate was not only larger but more magnificent in its decoration than this, and he couldn't help but sneer at the lack of extravagance compared to the city. "Are all the country estates as...modest as this?"
Danger. Danger. Danger.
All she could feel was the tenseness in her shoulders, her expression revealing little about the thoughts rambling on through her mind in an endless stream. His nerve. The absolute arrogance. It was already getting to her. It was eating away at the feeling of serenity she had earned from the forest.
It was time to simmer down the anger that had been building since she'd found them in the forest. It was time to play the part of a lady, not an angry ruffian who wanted to bash his head in. Though the thought was somewhat satisfying.
When he touched her, she tried not to jerk back as if he'd struck her. A few steps away. A guarded expression. Her hands placed out in a way that would keep him away and off of her.
The thought of him actually touching her, really touching her, much to her complete dismay, wasn't an entirely unwelcome thought. The lord was attractive. Crushingly so, in fact. Had he not already painted himself an ass, she may have caved to his request. But she'd already seen through the mock sweetness. The gentle touch that she'd assumed he used to ply her to his wishes. She would not be broken down so easily.
Be nice.
Take a breath.
Be a lady.
Never taking her gaze off him, she swallowed slightly. "My name is Iris of Argyris. My father is the Baron of Aetaea. The lands and forests you have traversed today," she noted after a few heartbeats. Just a little bit of her. The tiniest hint of who she was and why she was so unbelievably stubborn with him and how he had chosen to act toward her. Iris wasn't going to let him close enough to touch. Not again.
"There is nothing that I can do for you, my lord. My father is very strict about the safety and well-being of the staff. My hands are tied in that regard," she yielded softly, pressing a stray lock of hair out of her face. Her green eyes were fixed to him, taking in his every move, every breath. No. He wouldn't wear her down about the rules. He may come out alive and satiated, but she would be the one who earned the tongue lashing for letting it happen.
Her father was sickly. She worked hard to make sure that he kept his position. But he was still the Baron, and his word was her law. She had to abide by it just as strictly as anyone else.
Turning away slowly, Iris of Argyris lead the lord down a few dimly lit halls, quietly opening one of the more ornate doors in the mansion. The staff were just finishing with the bed, working faster when they noted the two enter. They scurried out as fast as they could, leaving the two of them alone. Her chambers were plush. Everything was carefully maintained. The linens were expensive and in the same grey and purple color scheme of her house. It wasn't the largest space, but it had been enough to give her just what she needed and nothing more.
The insult to the country estate was not missed and it took her a moment to compose herself, "I'm sorry, my lord. This is the country estate and we do not spend much time here, so there is little reason for it to be as ornate and gluttonous as our regular residence. Our normal accommodations are in the city," she said quietly, her brow furrowed.
A pause.
"There is a small private tub for bathing in the adjoining chamber," Iris instructed lightly. "I can have your slaves bring your supplies should you wish it and someone shall bring you your meal shortly," lifting her chin, she gave him a moment to look about.
It wasn't often that any man stepped foot in her chambers. In fact, she'd only had one or two men in her lifetime. Having this lord here... it made her feel vulnerable. This was her space. One of the few places she could think in silence and have to herself. It felt foreign for another human being to be sleeping in her bed for the night. While she was absolutely sure that her father would gawk and grumble at her yielding to such maddening demands, she found herself not wanting to be as combative with the lord as before.
The sun was sinking lower and lower. She wouldn't deny him rest.
As much as she wanted to detest him, he was just as wary from traveling as she was from dealing with him.
"If that is all?"
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Danger. Danger. Danger.
All she could feel was the tenseness in her shoulders, her expression revealing little about the thoughts rambling on through her mind in an endless stream. His nerve. The absolute arrogance. It was already getting to her. It was eating away at the feeling of serenity she had earned from the forest.
It was time to simmer down the anger that had been building since she'd found them in the forest. It was time to play the part of a lady, not an angry ruffian who wanted to bash his head in. Though the thought was somewhat satisfying.
When he touched her, she tried not to jerk back as if he'd struck her. A few steps away. A guarded expression. Her hands placed out in a way that would keep him away and off of her.
The thought of him actually touching her, really touching her, much to her complete dismay, wasn't an entirely unwelcome thought. The lord was attractive. Crushingly so, in fact. Had he not already painted himself an ass, she may have caved to his request. But she'd already seen through the mock sweetness. The gentle touch that she'd assumed he used to ply her to his wishes. She would not be broken down so easily.
Be nice.
Take a breath.
Be a lady.
Never taking her gaze off him, she swallowed slightly. "My name is Iris of Argyris. My father is the Baron of Aetaea. The lands and forests you have traversed today," she noted after a few heartbeats. Just a little bit of her. The tiniest hint of who she was and why she was so unbelievably stubborn with him and how he had chosen to act toward her. Iris wasn't going to let him close enough to touch. Not again.
"There is nothing that I can do for you, my lord. My father is very strict about the safety and well-being of the staff. My hands are tied in that regard," she yielded softly, pressing a stray lock of hair out of her face. Her green eyes were fixed to him, taking in his every move, every breath. No. He wouldn't wear her down about the rules. He may come out alive and satiated, but she would be the one who earned the tongue lashing for letting it happen.
Her father was sickly. She worked hard to make sure that he kept his position. But he was still the Baron, and his word was her law. She had to abide by it just as strictly as anyone else.
Turning away slowly, Iris of Argyris lead the lord down a few dimly lit halls, quietly opening one of the more ornate doors in the mansion. The staff were just finishing with the bed, working faster when they noted the two enter. They scurried out as fast as they could, leaving the two of them alone. Her chambers were plush. Everything was carefully maintained. The linens were expensive and in the same grey and purple color scheme of her house. It wasn't the largest space, but it had been enough to give her just what she needed and nothing more.
The insult to the country estate was not missed and it took her a moment to compose herself, "I'm sorry, my lord. This is the country estate and we do not spend much time here, so there is little reason for it to be as ornate and gluttonous as our regular residence. Our normal accommodations are in the city," she said quietly, her brow furrowed.
A pause.
"There is a small private tub for bathing in the adjoining chamber," Iris instructed lightly. "I can have your slaves bring your supplies should you wish it and someone shall bring you your meal shortly," lifting her chin, she gave him a moment to look about.
It wasn't often that any man stepped foot in her chambers. In fact, she'd only had one or two men in her lifetime. Having this lord here... it made her feel vulnerable. This was her space. One of the few places she could think in silence and have to herself. It felt foreign for another human being to be sleeping in her bed for the night. While she was absolutely sure that her father would gawk and grumble at her yielding to such maddening demands, she found herself not wanting to be as combative with the lord as before.
The sun was sinking lower and lower. She wouldn't deny him rest.
As much as she wanted to detest him, he was just as wary from traveling as she was from dealing with him.
"If that is all?"
Danger. Danger. Danger.
All she could feel was the tenseness in her shoulders, her expression revealing little about the thoughts rambling on through her mind in an endless stream. His nerve. The absolute arrogance. It was already getting to her. It was eating away at the feeling of serenity she had earned from the forest.
It was time to simmer down the anger that had been building since she'd found them in the forest. It was time to play the part of a lady, not an angry ruffian who wanted to bash his head in. Though the thought was somewhat satisfying.
When he touched her, she tried not to jerk back as if he'd struck her. A few steps away. A guarded expression. Her hands placed out in a way that would keep him away and off of her.
The thought of him actually touching her, really touching her, much to her complete dismay, wasn't an entirely unwelcome thought. The lord was attractive. Crushingly so, in fact. Had he not already painted himself an ass, she may have caved to his request. But she'd already seen through the mock sweetness. The gentle touch that she'd assumed he used to ply her to his wishes. She would not be broken down so easily.
Be nice.
Take a breath.
Be a lady.
Never taking her gaze off him, she swallowed slightly. "My name is Iris of Argyris. My father is the Baron of Aetaea. The lands and forests you have traversed today," she noted after a few heartbeats. Just a little bit of her. The tiniest hint of who she was and why she was so unbelievably stubborn with him and how he had chosen to act toward her. Iris wasn't going to let him close enough to touch. Not again.
"There is nothing that I can do for you, my lord. My father is very strict about the safety and well-being of the staff. My hands are tied in that regard," she yielded softly, pressing a stray lock of hair out of her face. Her green eyes were fixed to him, taking in his every move, every breath. No. He wouldn't wear her down about the rules. He may come out alive and satiated, but she would be the one who earned the tongue lashing for letting it happen.
Her father was sickly. She worked hard to make sure that he kept his position. But he was still the Baron, and his word was her law. She had to abide by it just as strictly as anyone else.
Turning away slowly, Iris of Argyris lead the lord down a few dimly lit halls, quietly opening one of the more ornate doors in the mansion. The staff were just finishing with the bed, working faster when they noted the two enter. They scurried out as fast as they could, leaving the two of them alone. Her chambers were plush. Everything was carefully maintained. The linens were expensive and in the same grey and purple color scheme of her house. It wasn't the largest space, but it had been enough to give her just what she needed and nothing more.
The insult to the country estate was not missed and it took her a moment to compose herself, "I'm sorry, my lord. This is the country estate and we do not spend much time here, so there is little reason for it to be as ornate and gluttonous as our regular residence. Our normal accommodations are in the city," she said quietly, her brow furrowed.
A pause.
"There is a small private tub for bathing in the adjoining chamber," Iris instructed lightly. "I can have your slaves bring your supplies should you wish it and someone shall bring you your meal shortly," lifting her chin, she gave him a moment to look about.
It wasn't often that any man stepped foot in her chambers. In fact, she'd only had one or two men in her lifetime. Having this lord here... it made her feel vulnerable. This was her space. One of the few places she could think in silence and have to herself. It felt foreign for another human being to be sleeping in her bed for the night. While she was absolutely sure that her father would gawk and grumble at her yielding to such maddening demands, she found herself not wanting to be as combative with the lord as before.
The sun was sinking lower and lower. She wouldn't deny him rest.
As much as she wanted to detest him, he was just as wary from traveling as she was from dealing with him.
"If that is all?"
If there was anything Rafail was unused to, it was rejection.
Every time in his life that he had given anybody a look like that, they had always fallen for it. It hadn't always been the same look but it had been a variation, and it had always earned him what he'd wanted. Even Father - Father of all people, stubborn and strict as he could be - even he was susceptible to its charms. It was partially responsible for his collection of expensive yet rarely ridden horses and partially responsible for the number of women who had visited his bed. But what it was rarely responsible for was a girl so outright rejecting him. The only thing he could be thankful for was the pair of them had already moved out of his friends' line of sight. He would not be humiliated in front of them. He would not be humiliated at all.
"Iris of Argyris?" Rafail snorted at the name, taking a few steps back at her as she stepped away from him. He wasn't about to be made out a fool, and he was already far taller than she, so he was banking on looking as threatening as possible as approved. "And, what, you expect me to be impressed? You expect me to suddenly fall to my knees in worship because your father is a baron? I have held the same title since I was twelve. My father owns more land than you could ever dream of and my brother is married to the King's sister. Oh, but I must be nothing in comparison to the great and illustrious Iris of Argyris, who rules over a forest." He rolled his eyes, lips twitching up into an amused smirk. "I should not have had to tell you how to treat a guest of my calibre."
In Athenia, great hospitality was dearly important to every citizen, and that included accepting stray guests who happened to find themselves at your door. Even Rafail, who was generally wary around strangers and the dangers they might pose, would never have turned one away nor denied them the entertainment they so clearly deserved after a long trip. The idea of being entirely incapable of providing him with what he wanted seemed not only absurd but entirely shameful. If Iris was not willing to give it to him so easily, then he would have to use his more charming words, something he deemed an absolute waste on someone like her. But it had to be done if he was to get his way.
Straightening himself up and adjusting his chiton ever so slightly, he nodded as though in understanding with a bright smile now plastered on his face to show off his stunningly white teeth, a complete turnaround from his previous demeanour. Women responded well to kindness. "My apologies, your father's concerns are completely reasonable. I am simply unused to such a rule in my own home. The slaves are there to serve as necessary, after all." In case the girl wasn't aware of the definition. Still, he spoke with continued politeness, allowing her to lead him into her chambers. They were smaller than he would have liked but they would serve their purpose. "Yes, the city does allow for more room and ornateness but every so often a simpler approach is preferred." He hated himself simply for saying the words. Poverty was not something the man ever preferred.
Rafail nodded in response to each of Iris's comments about the accommodation, glancing in the direction she had gestured for the bath. An idea had struck his mind and he moved to begin unfastening the golden pins on his chiton as he spoke to his host. "I appreciate your generosity in providing me with a private bath to make use of, not to mention my own chambers. But, my Lady, I cannot help but worry...where shall you be sleeping this night? I would not wish to put you out by keeping your chambers all to myself. Perhaps...perhaps you could share the bed? At least the room. I promise I shall be most..." He searched for the right word, dropping his dark red robes to the ground as he spoke, a hand shifting to rest itself on his naked hips as he smirked at the girl, already deeming her an idiote asy to manipulate. "...proper."
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If there was anything Rafail was unused to, it was rejection.
Every time in his life that he had given anybody a look like that, they had always fallen for it. It hadn't always been the same look but it had been a variation, and it had always earned him what he'd wanted. Even Father - Father of all people, stubborn and strict as he could be - even he was susceptible to its charms. It was partially responsible for his collection of expensive yet rarely ridden horses and partially responsible for the number of women who had visited his bed. But what it was rarely responsible for was a girl so outright rejecting him. The only thing he could be thankful for was the pair of them had already moved out of his friends' line of sight. He would not be humiliated in front of them. He would not be humiliated at all.
"Iris of Argyris?" Rafail snorted at the name, taking a few steps back at her as she stepped away from him. He wasn't about to be made out a fool, and he was already far taller than she, so he was banking on looking as threatening as possible as approved. "And, what, you expect me to be impressed? You expect me to suddenly fall to my knees in worship because your father is a baron? I have held the same title since I was twelve. My father owns more land than you could ever dream of and my brother is married to the King's sister. Oh, but I must be nothing in comparison to the great and illustrious Iris of Argyris, who rules over a forest." He rolled his eyes, lips twitching up into an amused smirk. "I should not have had to tell you how to treat a guest of my calibre."
In Athenia, great hospitality was dearly important to every citizen, and that included accepting stray guests who happened to find themselves at your door. Even Rafail, who was generally wary around strangers and the dangers they might pose, would never have turned one away nor denied them the entertainment they so clearly deserved after a long trip. The idea of being entirely incapable of providing him with what he wanted seemed not only absurd but entirely shameful. If Iris was not willing to give it to him so easily, then he would have to use his more charming words, something he deemed an absolute waste on someone like her. But it had to be done if he was to get his way.
Straightening himself up and adjusting his chiton ever so slightly, he nodded as though in understanding with a bright smile now plastered on his face to show off his stunningly white teeth, a complete turnaround from his previous demeanour. Women responded well to kindness. "My apologies, your father's concerns are completely reasonable. I am simply unused to such a rule in my own home. The slaves are there to serve as necessary, after all." In case the girl wasn't aware of the definition. Still, he spoke with continued politeness, allowing her to lead him into her chambers. They were smaller than he would have liked but they would serve their purpose. "Yes, the city does allow for more room and ornateness but every so often a simpler approach is preferred." He hated himself simply for saying the words. Poverty was not something the man ever preferred.
Rafail nodded in response to each of Iris's comments about the accommodation, glancing in the direction she had gestured for the bath. An idea had struck his mind and he moved to begin unfastening the golden pins on his chiton as he spoke to his host. "I appreciate your generosity in providing me with a private bath to make use of, not to mention my own chambers. But, my Lady, I cannot help but worry...where shall you be sleeping this night? I would not wish to put you out by keeping your chambers all to myself. Perhaps...perhaps you could share the bed? At least the room. I promise I shall be most..." He searched for the right word, dropping his dark red robes to the ground as he spoke, a hand shifting to rest itself on his naked hips as he smirked at the girl, already deeming her an idiote asy to manipulate. "...proper."
If there was anything Rafail was unused to, it was rejection.
Every time in his life that he had given anybody a look like that, they had always fallen for it. It hadn't always been the same look but it had been a variation, and it had always earned him what he'd wanted. Even Father - Father of all people, stubborn and strict as he could be - even he was susceptible to its charms. It was partially responsible for his collection of expensive yet rarely ridden horses and partially responsible for the number of women who had visited his bed. But what it was rarely responsible for was a girl so outright rejecting him. The only thing he could be thankful for was the pair of them had already moved out of his friends' line of sight. He would not be humiliated in front of them. He would not be humiliated at all.
"Iris of Argyris?" Rafail snorted at the name, taking a few steps back at her as she stepped away from him. He wasn't about to be made out a fool, and he was already far taller than she, so he was banking on looking as threatening as possible as approved. "And, what, you expect me to be impressed? You expect me to suddenly fall to my knees in worship because your father is a baron? I have held the same title since I was twelve. My father owns more land than you could ever dream of and my brother is married to the King's sister. Oh, but I must be nothing in comparison to the great and illustrious Iris of Argyris, who rules over a forest." He rolled his eyes, lips twitching up into an amused smirk. "I should not have had to tell you how to treat a guest of my calibre."
In Athenia, great hospitality was dearly important to every citizen, and that included accepting stray guests who happened to find themselves at your door. Even Rafail, who was generally wary around strangers and the dangers they might pose, would never have turned one away nor denied them the entertainment they so clearly deserved after a long trip. The idea of being entirely incapable of providing him with what he wanted seemed not only absurd but entirely shameful. If Iris was not willing to give it to him so easily, then he would have to use his more charming words, something he deemed an absolute waste on someone like her. But it had to be done if he was to get his way.
Straightening himself up and adjusting his chiton ever so slightly, he nodded as though in understanding with a bright smile now plastered on his face to show off his stunningly white teeth, a complete turnaround from his previous demeanour. Women responded well to kindness. "My apologies, your father's concerns are completely reasonable. I am simply unused to such a rule in my own home. The slaves are there to serve as necessary, after all." In case the girl wasn't aware of the definition. Still, he spoke with continued politeness, allowing her to lead him into her chambers. They were smaller than he would have liked but they would serve their purpose. "Yes, the city does allow for more room and ornateness but every so often a simpler approach is preferred." He hated himself simply for saying the words. Poverty was not something the man ever preferred.
Rafail nodded in response to each of Iris's comments about the accommodation, glancing in the direction she had gestured for the bath. An idea had struck his mind and he moved to begin unfastening the golden pins on his chiton as he spoke to his host. "I appreciate your generosity in providing me with a private bath to make use of, not to mention my own chambers. But, my Lady, I cannot help but worry...where shall you be sleeping this night? I would not wish to put you out by keeping your chambers all to myself. Perhaps...perhaps you could share the bed? At least the room. I promise I shall be most..." He searched for the right word, dropping his dark red robes to the ground as he spoke, a hand shifting to rest itself on his naked hips as he smirked at the girl, already deeming her an idiote asy to manipulate. "...proper."
If looks could kill, this baron, this royal arse would be dead. The polite mask seemed to break for a single second as she plotted all of the different ways she might be able to get away with murder. If her time at court had been a lesson to her, it was that most boys were like this. Boys. Not men. Boys. And most boys couldn't and wouldn't handle the absolute fire she could throw at them.
There was a reason that, at twenty seven, she hadn't married or bore any children.
Those who knew her name, knew her, or had met her knew that she was more stubborn than a mule, more ambitious than a lion on a hunt, and just as cunning and clever-tongued as some politicians. At first, she stood there with a perfectly lifted eyebrow, contemplating the venom she'd spit at his feet. Then she simply gave a brilliant smile, tilting her head in the same way he had, giving him his same expression that he'd tried to use on her.
"I apologize, my lord. I must have forgotten myself and you for a moment there," voice soft as silk. Just like most men liked it. Sweet talking in a way that usually made them pliant and sure that they had won. She had lead him into her rooms after that, hoping that it would be the end of it. But her explanation of the chambers wasn't enough. He had to keep talking.
And he was trying to be sweet. Very, completely, extremely, nauseatingly sweet. A lie.
While she was gawking at him, trying to figure out whatever the hells he was talking about, his robes had dropped to the floor. Of course her gaze traveled downward and she pretended to marvel for a moment. A smile even tilted the corner of her lips. If he intended to have sex with her, he was sorely misguided and maybe even mildly delusional.
What did royalty do to their own when they had utterly lost their minds? She'd make sure to write his father, she reasoned. A man of his standing was surely just a little insane and not at all presentable in any court or house of a noble.
Anger aside, Iris lifted her gaze to his face, that wild smirk never once faltering. "If only you were half as large as your ego... my lord," Iris added as an after thought. "But you've convinced me. I'll share the room with you. You can have the lounge. Feel free to sleep naked, I'll simply have my slaves dispose of it once you leave. Maybe I'll even send it to the city as a parting gift and a thanks for gracing my father's province with your sharp tongue and seductive wit," she hummed, striding confidently over toward a small desk at the side of the room.
Iris picked up a small stack of parchment, leaning against the side of the desk and appearing completely uninterested in any further conversation or seductive tactics.
She could play a game of cat and mouse. The woman was just unsure whether he realized that he was the mouse in their little game.
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If looks could kill, this baron, this royal arse would be dead. The polite mask seemed to break for a single second as she plotted all of the different ways she might be able to get away with murder. If her time at court had been a lesson to her, it was that most boys were like this. Boys. Not men. Boys. And most boys couldn't and wouldn't handle the absolute fire she could throw at them.
There was a reason that, at twenty seven, she hadn't married or bore any children.
Those who knew her name, knew her, or had met her knew that she was more stubborn than a mule, more ambitious than a lion on a hunt, and just as cunning and clever-tongued as some politicians. At first, she stood there with a perfectly lifted eyebrow, contemplating the venom she'd spit at his feet. Then she simply gave a brilliant smile, tilting her head in the same way he had, giving him his same expression that he'd tried to use on her.
"I apologize, my lord. I must have forgotten myself and you for a moment there," voice soft as silk. Just like most men liked it. Sweet talking in a way that usually made them pliant and sure that they had won. She had lead him into her rooms after that, hoping that it would be the end of it. But her explanation of the chambers wasn't enough. He had to keep talking.
And he was trying to be sweet. Very, completely, extremely, nauseatingly sweet. A lie.
While she was gawking at him, trying to figure out whatever the hells he was talking about, his robes had dropped to the floor. Of course her gaze traveled downward and she pretended to marvel for a moment. A smile even tilted the corner of her lips. If he intended to have sex with her, he was sorely misguided and maybe even mildly delusional.
What did royalty do to their own when they had utterly lost their minds? She'd make sure to write his father, she reasoned. A man of his standing was surely just a little insane and not at all presentable in any court or house of a noble.
Anger aside, Iris lifted her gaze to his face, that wild smirk never once faltering. "If only you were half as large as your ego... my lord," Iris added as an after thought. "But you've convinced me. I'll share the room with you. You can have the lounge. Feel free to sleep naked, I'll simply have my slaves dispose of it once you leave. Maybe I'll even send it to the city as a parting gift and a thanks for gracing my father's province with your sharp tongue and seductive wit," she hummed, striding confidently over toward a small desk at the side of the room.
Iris picked up a small stack of parchment, leaning against the side of the desk and appearing completely uninterested in any further conversation or seductive tactics.
She could play a game of cat and mouse. The woman was just unsure whether he realized that he was the mouse in their little game.
If looks could kill, this baron, this royal arse would be dead. The polite mask seemed to break for a single second as she plotted all of the different ways she might be able to get away with murder. If her time at court had been a lesson to her, it was that most boys were like this. Boys. Not men. Boys. And most boys couldn't and wouldn't handle the absolute fire she could throw at them.
There was a reason that, at twenty seven, she hadn't married or bore any children.
Those who knew her name, knew her, or had met her knew that she was more stubborn than a mule, more ambitious than a lion on a hunt, and just as cunning and clever-tongued as some politicians. At first, she stood there with a perfectly lifted eyebrow, contemplating the venom she'd spit at his feet. Then she simply gave a brilliant smile, tilting her head in the same way he had, giving him his same expression that he'd tried to use on her.
"I apologize, my lord. I must have forgotten myself and you for a moment there," voice soft as silk. Just like most men liked it. Sweet talking in a way that usually made them pliant and sure that they had won. She had lead him into her rooms after that, hoping that it would be the end of it. But her explanation of the chambers wasn't enough. He had to keep talking.
And he was trying to be sweet. Very, completely, extremely, nauseatingly sweet. A lie.
While she was gawking at him, trying to figure out whatever the hells he was talking about, his robes had dropped to the floor. Of course her gaze traveled downward and she pretended to marvel for a moment. A smile even tilted the corner of her lips. If he intended to have sex with her, he was sorely misguided and maybe even mildly delusional.
What did royalty do to their own when they had utterly lost their minds? She'd make sure to write his father, she reasoned. A man of his standing was surely just a little insane and not at all presentable in any court or house of a noble.
Anger aside, Iris lifted her gaze to his face, that wild smirk never once faltering. "If only you were half as large as your ego... my lord," Iris added as an after thought. "But you've convinced me. I'll share the room with you. You can have the lounge. Feel free to sleep naked, I'll simply have my slaves dispose of it once you leave. Maybe I'll even send it to the city as a parting gift and a thanks for gracing my father's province with your sharp tongue and seductive wit," she hummed, striding confidently over toward a small desk at the side of the room.
Iris picked up a small stack of parchment, leaning against the side of the desk and appearing completely uninterested in any further conversation or seductive tactics.
She could play a game of cat and mouse. The woman was just unsure whether he realized that he was the mouse in their little game.
The sudden change of tone in her voice and the way her expression was mirroring his was not subtle, and Rafail was not stupid, contrary to some popular beliefs. He knew exactly what she was trying to do, there was no doubt that he did. It was the same trick he had just tried to use on her that, somehow, had managed to fail. If she believed she could play his same games back at him and expect them to be successful then she was sorely mistaken. He did not fall so easily. In fact, if there was anything positive to say about Rafail's intransigency it was that he did not bend so easily to the whims of others and it was nigh on impossible to use his own ploys against him. Try as she might, he did not plan on being defeated by her.
With none of his usual tactics working, he had been forced to resort to less conventional methods of convincing her, extremes he rarely had to jump to in order to get what he wanted. When women wouldn't do what you demanded with a few sweet words, you had to appeal to their animalistic side, get the heat rising inside of them and the blood rushing through their veins because there were certain things they couldn't resist, certain natural urges that took over and made them want to stay and obey and taste every little part of you. And Iris, however much a man she may have pretended to be and however wilfully she might have carried herself, she was very much only a woman, and women were all the same. She would succumb to him.
It was for this reason that he had stripped before her, talking all the while so that she would stay distracted. The expression on her face when he had betrayed some interest on her part, the slight shift of her lips and the manner in which she couldn't help but look. He would have half expected her to fall to her knees right then and there but, instead, she turned her gaze once more to look him in the eye and her next words were short of the adoration he both expected and desired from her. His simper faded back into the pout that was so much more familiar on his face, the only physical mark he would show her words had left on him.
"Then I would call it a damn fine thing that I have such an exceptionally large ego," he answered, watching as she crossed the room with such indifference that he almost wanted to scream to her to look at him. Rafail was simply not equipped with the ability to be ignored in the manner that she now did, nor for the suggestion that he should sleep on a couch like some common fool. If there was one thing for certain in this entirely uncommon situation he now found himself, it was that he would be sleeping on a bed that night, whether or not it was with Iris.
Now distracted from any thoughts of bathing or eating - such things could be postponed for a short while anyhow - Rafail stretched his arms above his head, yawning before he stepped away from his now abandoned chiton and approached Iris once more. "I do not require any of your furniture in my home. I can afford my own." He rested both hands on the desk before her, leaning in and over the parchments which appeared to be a greater concern to her than he, and moved his face close to Iris's, almost so close that he could have kissed her where he not so sure it would end negatively for perfect alignment of his nose. Let her suffer for the night then, let her be forced to imagine instead what she could have had but so fatuously rejected."Now, if you would not mind, as you have no intentions of sharing the bed with me, which I believe was my only offer, I would suggest you leave and find yourself other accommodation for the night, as I should quite like to sleep and you, my Lady, are beginning to grate on my nerves."
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The sudden change of tone in her voice and the way her expression was mirroring his was not subtle, and Rafail was not stupid, contrary to some popular beliefs. He knew exactly what she was trying to do, there was no doubt that he did. It was the same trick he had just tried to use on her that, somehow, had managed to fail. If she believed she could play his same games back at him and expect them to be successful then she was sorely mistaken. He did not fall so easily. In fact, if there was anything positive to say about Rafail's intransigency it was that he did not bend so easily to the whims of others and it was nigh on impossible to use his own ploys against him. Try as she might, he did not plan on being defeated by her.
With none of his usual tactics working, he had been forced to resort to less conventional methods of convincing her, extremes he rarely had to jump to in order to get what he wanted. When women wouldn't do what you demanded with a few sweet words, you had to appeal to their animalistic side, get the heat rising inside of them and the blood rushing through their veins because there were certain things they couldn't resist, certain natural urges that took over and made them want to stay and obey and taste every little part of you. And Iris, however much a man she may have pretended to be and however wilfully she might have carried herself, she was very much only a woman, and women were all the same. She would succumb to him.
It was for this reason that he had stripped before her, talking all the while so that she would stay distracted. The expression on her face when he had betrayed some interest on her part, the slight shift of her lips and the manner in which she couldn't help but look. He would have half expected her to fall to her knees right then and there but, instead, she turned her gaze once more to look him in the eye and her next words were short of the adoration he both expected and desired from her. His simper faded back into the pout that was so much more familiar on his face, the only physical mark he would show her words had left on him.
"Then I would call it a damn fine thing that I have such an exceptionally large ego," he answered, watching as she crossed the room with such indifference that he almost wanted to scream to her to look at him. Rafail was simply not equipped with the ability to be ignored in the manner that she now did, nor for the suggestion that he should sleep on a couch like some common fool. If there was one thing for certain in this entirely uncommon situation he now found himself, it was that he would be sleeping on a bed that night, whether or not it was with Iris.
Now distracted from any thoughts of bathing or eating - such things could be postponed for a short while anyhow - Rafail stretched his arms above his head, yawning before he stepped away from his now abandoned chiton and approached Iris once more. "I do not require any of your furniture in my home. I can afford my own." He rested both hands on the desk before her, leaning in and over the parchments which appeared to be a greater concern to her than he, and moved his face close to Iris's, almost so close that he could have kissed her where he not so sure it would end negatively for perfect alignment of his nose. Let her suffer for the night then, let her be forced to imagine instead what she could have had but so fatuously rejected."Now, if you would not mind, as you have no intentions of sharing the bed with me, which I believe was my only offer, I would suggest you leave and find yourself other accommodation for the night, as I should quite like to sleep and you, my Lady, are beginning to grate on my nerves."
The sudden change of tone in her voice and the way her expression was mirroring his was not subtle, and Rafail was not stupid, contrary to some popular beliefs. He knew exactly what she was trying to do, there was no doubt that he did. It was the same trick he had just tried to use on her that, somehow, had managed to fail. If she believed she could play his same games back at him and expect them to be successful then she was sorely mistaken. He did not fall so easily. In fact, if there was anything positive to say about Rafail's intransigency it was that he did not bend so easily to the whims of others and it was nigh on impossible to use his own ploys against him. Try as she might, he did not plan on being defeated by her.
With none of his usual tactics working, he had been forced to resort to less conventional methods of convincing her, extremes he rarely had to jump to in order to get what he wanted. When women wouldn't do what you demanded with a few sweet words, you had to appeal to their animalistic side, get the heat rising inside of them and the blood rushing through their veins because there were certain things they couldn't resist, certain natural urges that took over and made them want to stay and obey and taste every little part of you. And Iris, however much a man she may have pretended to be and however wilfully she might have carried herself, she was very much only a woman, and women were all the same. She would succumb to him.
It was for this reason that he had stripped before her, talking all the while so that she would stay distracted. The expression on her face when he had betrayed some interest on her part, the slight shift of her lips and the manner in which she couldn't help but look. He would have half expected her to fall to her knees right then and there but, instead, she turned her gaze once more to look him in the eye and her next words were short of the adoration he both expected and desired from her. His simper faded back into the pout that was so much more familiar on his face, the only physical mark he would show her words had left on him.
"Then I would call it a damn fine thing that I have such an exceptionally large ego," he answered, watching as she crossed the room with such indifference that he almost wanted to scream to her to look at him. Rafail was simply not equipped with the ability to be ignored in the manner that she now did, nor for the suggestion that he should sleep on a couch like some common fool. If there was one thing for certain in this entirely uncommon situation he now found himself, it was that he would be sleeping on a bed that night, whether or not it was with Iris.
Now distracted from any thoughts of bathing or eating - such things could be postponed for a short while anyhow - Rafail stretched his arms above his head, yawning before he stepped away from his now abandoned chiton and approached Iris once more. "I do not require any of your furniture in my home. I can afford my own." He rested both hands on the desk before her, leaning in and over the parchments which appeared to be a greater concern to her than he, and moved his face close to Iris's, almost so close that he could have kissed her where he not so sure it would end negatively for perfect alignment of his nose. Let her suffer for the night then, let her be forced to imagine instead what she could have had but so fatuously rejected."Now, if you would not mind, as you have no intentions of sharing the bed with me, which I believe was my only offer, I would suggest you leave and find yourself other accommodation for the night, as I should quite like to sleep and you, my Lady, are beginning to grate on my nerves."
That flash of hurt in the baron's eye was not missed. Were her heart not so cold and guarded, she may have felt a little worse about it than she did. Leaning back against her desk, she pretended that she wasn't aware of him, that she wasn't keeping track of every step he took inside of her chambers. She let her gaze wander the parchments, reading in silence. There was so much work left to do that night, but it seemed as if he wasn't going to let her get even the most minute amount of rest.
His hands were on her desk and he was leaning close to her. If she turned her head just the slightest bit, her lips would meet his. For a moment, her irritation dissipated and she resisted the urge to lean forward. It had been far, far too long since she'd been with a man. She couldn't even remember the name of the last soldier she'd lured into her own bed. Months, if not years ago. It wasn't a habit that she ever got into. Only when the desire for relief was too strong to fight any longer.
Brow furrowed, Iris slowly set her work back onto the desk, listening to him speak. Truth was, she wasn't entirely sure that there was anywhere else for her to sleep in her own house. And he'd already done a majority of the work for her, it seemed. His clothes were left across the room in a heap, though she made sure to keep her eyes resting squarely on his face.
Smirk lifting the corner of her mouth, Iris suddenly leaned forward, reaching up with her free hand. Her fingertips grazed his jaw as if they were barely there. Her lips lingered close to his, her green eyes remaining locked to his. "My lord. I'm thinking that I may have reconsidered your offer," Iris hummed with a slow smile. "But as you already said out in my forest... I need to clean myself up for you," but apparently common whores were fine. "So..." she hummed, pressing her other hand against his chest, pressing firmly in order to make him back away slightly so she could get around the corner of the desk.
Coming just the slightest bit closer, Iris made sure that her fingers trailed slowly against his chest as she wandered toward the bath. Her fingers carefully worked at her braids as she moved, her hips swaying the slightest bit. Anything to keep his attention on her.
He was keen on being an absolute ass. Iris was keen on making him suffer before she gave him just a little bit of what he wanted. If that look on his face had been any indication, she knew exactly what he wanted from her. And perhaps she'd give it to him. Perhaps she wouldn't.
She did know one thing, though. She'd be sleeping in her own bed, even if he had to lay there angrily beside her all night.
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That flash of hurt in the baron's eye was not missed. Were her heart not so cold and guarded, she may have felt a little worse about it than she did. Leaning back against her desk, she pretended that she wasn't aware of him, that she wasn't keeping track of every step he took inside of her chambers. She let her gaze wander the parchments, reading in silence. There was so much work left to do that night, but it seemed as if he wasn't going to let her get even the most minute amount of rest.
His hands were on her desk and he was leaning close to her. If she turned her head just the slightest bit, her lips would meet his. For a moment, her irritation dissipated and she resisted the urge to lean forward. It had been far, far too long since she'd been with a man. She couldn't even remember the name of the last soldier she'd lured into her own bed. Months, if not years ago. It wasn't a habit that she ever got into. Only when the desire for relief was too strong to fight any longer.
Brow furrowed, Iris slowly set her work back onto the desk, listening to him speak. Truth was, she wasn't entirely sure that there was anywhere else for her to sleep in her own house. And he'd already done a majority of the work for her, it seemed. His clothes were left across the room in a heap, though she made sure to keep her eyes resting squarely on his face.
Smirk lifting the corner of her mouth, Iris suddenly leaned forward, reaching up with her free hand. Her fingertips grazed his jaw as if they were barely there. Her lips lingered close to his, her green eyes remaining locked to his. "My lord. I'm thinking that I may have reconsidered your offer," Iris hummed with a slow smile. "But as you already said out in my forest... I need to clean myself up for you," but apparently common whores were fine. "So..." she hummed, pressing her other hand against his chest, pressing firmly in order to make him back away slightly so she could get around the corner of the desk.
Coming just the slightest bit closer, Iris made sure that her fingers trailed slowly against his chest as she wandered toward the bath. Her fingers carefully worked at her braids as she moved, her hips swaying the slightest bit. Anything to keep his attention on her.
He was keen on being an absolute ass. Iris was keen on making him suffer before she gave him just a little bit of what he wanted. If that look on his face had been any indication, she knew exactly what he wanted from her. And perhaps she'd give it to him. Perhaps she wouldn't.
She did know one thing, though. She'd be sleeping in her own bed, even if he had to lay there angrily beside her all night.
That flash of hurt in the baron's eye was not missed. Were her heart not so cold and guarded, she may have felt a little worse about it than she did. Leaning back against her desk, she pretended that she wasn't aware of him, that she wasn't keeping track of every step he took inside of her chambers. She let her gaze wander the parchments, reading in silence. There was so much work left to do that night, but it seemed as if he wasn't going to let her get even the most minute amount of rest.
His hands were on her desk and he was leaning close to her. If she turned her head just the slightest bit, her lips would meet his. For a moment, her irritation dissipated and she resisted the urge to lean forward. It had been far, far too long since she'd been with a man. She couldn't even remember the name of the last soldier she'd lured into her own bed. Months, if not years ago. It wasn't a habit that she ever got into. Only when the desire for relief was too strong to fight any longer.
Brow furrowed, Iris slowly set her work back onto the desk, listening to him speak. Truth was, she wasn't entirely sure that there was anywhere else for her to sleep in her own house. And he'd already done a majority of the work for her, it seemed. His clothes were left across the room in a heap, though she made sure to keep her eyes resting squarely on his face.
Smirk lifting the corner of her mouth, Iris suddenly leaned forward, reaching up with her free hand. Her fingertips grazed his jaw as if they were barely there. Her lips lingered close to his, her green eyes remaining locked to his. "My lord. I'm thinking that I may have reconsidered your offer," Iris hummed with a slow smile. "But as you already said out in my forest... I need to clean myself up for you," but apparently common whores were fine. "So..." she hummed, pressing her other hand against his chest, pressing firmly in order to make him back away slightly so she could get around the corner of the desk.
Coming just the slightest bit closer, Iris made sure that her fingers trailed slowly against his chest as she wandered toward the bath. Her fingers carefully worked at her braids as she moved, her hips swaying the slightest bit. Anything to keep his attention on her.
He was keen on being an absolute ass. Iris was keen on making him suffer before she gave him just a little bit of what he wanted. If that look on his face had been any indication, she knew exactly what he wanted from her. And perhaps she'd give it to him. Perhaps she wouldn't.
She did know one thing, though. She'd be sleeping in her own bed, even if he had to lay there angrily beside her all night.
Oh, did she want him now? And it appeared she still believed he was going to yield to her temptations. Hmph. Even with her hand resting so seductively on his chest like that and the way her fingers had grazed his chin, he couldn't be so easily taken. Yes, there had been a brief moment where his mind had obviously turned to exactly what she had been hoping, but he was a master at those very tricks she was playing and he could restrain himself. If anything was sure in this game they were playing, it was that Rafail was going to stay in control, just like he always was.
Using the way she'd pushed him away as a subtle impulse, he took a few steps back, turning away from her and towards the entrance to the room as though to show off his current lack of interest, only glancing at her ever so slightly out of the corner of his eye. He may not have been planning to fall for any deviousness on her behalf, but that didn't mean Rafail wasn't allowing himself the privilege of looking. Iris was a nothing short of a nuisance but she was most definitely delicious and new and he had an incredible appetite for novelties.
"You may clean yourself up all you like but, unfortunately, my offer has been retracted. I no longer wish for you to share my bed." Not at all bothered by his current state - it wasn't as though he ever made any attempts to be modest - he pushed the door to the room open, scanning quickly to see if there was anyone in sight and, more specifically, the two slaves he had originally brought on this trip with him. "Deucalion!" he called out, his tone irritated and making it obvious that he was in no mood to be reckoned with at that moment. There were always signs when Rafail was in any sort of mood that was likely to amount to a tantrum, always signs that he was ready to scream and hurt as needed to have his way. Those in his household were, needless to say, fully aware, almost trained to recognise the symptoms before they came. It partly attributed to why they carried out their tasks and duties with such ruthless efficiency and speed. "Barnabas!"
He hadn't needed to wait long, both men appearing fast enough. For a moment, he leaned thoughtfully on the doorframe, momentarily acting as though he'd forgotten what he meant to say. Keeping people waiting was exceptionally entertaining to him. "It appears my darling host doesn't wish to share my bed this evening and she can't provide me with any relief so...I will be needing you to find me a little something from the closest whorehouse you can find, I don't care how far. Blonde rather than otherwise. Nothing cheap either. My usual sort should do. Don't take too long. You know I don't like to be kept waiting." Ironically. He waved the pair off after their confirmation of his demands, shutting the door behind him once more as he contemplated his following actions.
Iris was still occupied doing whatever it was she was doing, not that he was all too interested after their recent exchange, and she would hardly be any fun at the moment. So he opted to ignore her for now, crossing back to the kline and making himself comfortable reclining upon it, watching the shadows coming from the room she was currently in. "Iris, was it?" he questioned, loud enough that she might still hear him. "You may not wish to sleep with me after all. I plan to be quite occupied tonight regardless of your intentions."
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Oh, did she want him now? And it appeared she still believed he was going to yield to her temptations. Hmph. Even with her hand resting so seductively on his chest like that and the way her fingers had grazed his chin, he couldn't be so easily taken. Yes, there had been a brief moment where his mind had obviously turned to exactly what she had been hoping, but he was a master at those very tricks she was playing and he could restrain himself. If anything was sure in this game they were playing, it was that Rafail was going to stay in control, just like he always was.
Using the way she'd pushed him away as a subtle impulse, he took a few steps back, turning away from her and towards the entrance to the room as though to show off his current lack of interest, only glancing at her ever so slightly out of the corner of his eye. He may not have been planning to fall for any deviousness on her behalf, but that didn't mean Rafail wasn't allowing himself the privilege of looking. Iris was a nothing short of a nuisance but she was most definitely delicious and new and he had an incredible appetite for novelties.
"You may clean yourself up all you like but, unfortunately, my offer has been retracted. I no longer wish for you to share my bed." Not at all bothered by his current state - it wasn't as though he ever made any attempts to be modest - he pushed the door to the room open, scanning quickly to see if there was anyone in sight and, more specifically, the two slaves he had originally brought on this trip with him. "Deucalion!" he called out, his tone irritated and making it obvious that he was in no mood to be reckoned with at that moment. There were always signs when Rafail was in any sort of mood that was likely to amount to a tantrum, always signs that he was ready to scream and hurt as needed to have his way. Those in his household were, needless to say, fully aware, almost trained to recognise the symptoms before they came. It partly attributed to why they carried out their tasks and duties with such ruthless efficiency and speed. "Barnabas!"
He hadn't needed to wait long, both men appearing fast enough. For a moment, he leaned thoughtfully on the doorframe, momentarily acting as though he'd forgotten what he meant to say. Keeping people waiting was exceptionally entertaining to him. "It appears my darling host doesn't wish to share my bed this evening and she can't provide me with any relief so...I will be needing you to find me a little something from the closest whorehouse you can find, I don't care how far. Blonde rather than otherwise. Nothing cheap either. My usual sort should do. Don't take too long. You know I don't like to be kept waiting." Ironically. He waved the pair off after their confirmation of his demands, shutting the door behind him once more as he contemplated his following actions.
Iris was still occupied doing whatever it was she was doing, not that he was all too interested after their recent exchange, and she would hardly be any fun at the moment. So he opted to ignore her for now, crossing back to the kline and making himself comfortable reclining upon it, watching the shadows coming from the room she was currently in. "Iris, was it?" he questioned, loud enough that she might still hear him. "You may not wish to sleep with me after all. I plan to be quite occupied tonight regardless of your intentions."
Oh, did she want him now? And it appeared she still believed he was going to yield to her temptations. Hmph. Even with her hand resting so seductively on his chest like that and the way her fingers had grazed his chin, he couldn't be so easily taken. Yes, there had been a brief moment where his mind had obviously turned to exactly what she had been hoping, but he was a master at those very tricks she was playing and he could restrain himself. If anything was sure in this game they were playing, it was that Rafail was going to stay in control, just like he always was.
Using the way she'd pushed him away as a subtle impulse, he took a few steps back, turning away from her and towards the entrance to the room as though to show off his current lack of interest, only glancing at her ever so slightly out of the corner of his eye. He may not have been planning to fall for any deviousness on her behalf, but that didn't mean Rafail wasn't allowing himself the privilege of looking. Iris was a nothing short of a nuisance but she was most definitely delicious and new and he had an incredible appetite for novelties.
"You may clean yourself up all you like but, unfortunately, my offer has been retracted. I no longer wish for you to share my bed." Not at all bothered by his current state - it wasn't as though he ever made any attempts to be modest - he pushed the door to the room open, scanning quickly to see if there was anyone in sight and, more specifically, the two slaves he had originally brought on this trip with him. "Deucalion!" he called out, his tone irritated and making it obvious that he was in no mood to be reckoned with at that moment. There were always signs when Rafail was in any sort of mood that was likely to amount to a tantrum, always signs that he was ready to scream and hurt as needed to have his way. Those in his household were, needless to say, fully aware, almost trained to recognise the symptoms before they came. It partly attributed to why they carried out their tasks and duties with such ruthless efficiency and speed. "Barnabas!"
He hadn't needed to wait long, both men appearing fast enough. For a moment, he leaned thoughtfully on the doorframe, momentarily acting as though he'd forgotten what he meant to say. Keeping people waiting was exceptionally entertaining to him. "It appears my darling host doesn't wish to share my bed this evening and she can't provide me with any relief so...I will be needing you to find me a little something from the closest whorehouse you can find, I don't care how far. Blonde rather than otherwise. Nothing cheap either. My usual sort should do. Don't take too long. You know I don't like to be kept waiting." Ironically. He waved the pair off after their confirmation of his demands, shutting the door behind him once more as he contemplated his following actions.
Iris was still occupied doing whatever it was she was doing, not that he was all too interested after their recent exchange, and she would hardly be any fun at the moment. So he opted to ignore her for now, crossing back to the kline and making himself comfortable reclining upon it, watching the shadows coming from the room she was currently in. "Iris, was it?" he questioned, loud enough that she might still hear him. "You may not wish to sleep with me after all. I plan to be quite occupied tonight regardless of your intentions."
The only thought that rang in her mind in that moment were words her father had once spoken. Disappointment that she hadn't found a husband. Disappointment that she had scared off yet another suitor. This time, she hadn't exactly scared him off as much as she'd angered him. Iris honestly expected it. The only people with enough grit to handle her were the soldier's she'd run with as a child. A few were still unmarried, and it was with one of those soldiers that she'd last lain beside.
To say that Rafail's dismissal and sudden lack of interest stung was an understatement. The feeling left her weary, tired to her bones. Iris found herself staring at the tub in the adjoining room for a few moments longer than needed, working to keep her composure against someone who seemed to break apart her temper so easily. Instead of responding, she moved to at least wash up a little.
It was customary for the servants to fill the bath toward the end of the night. Generally, Iris was out in the forest as she had been that night. So it was no surprise that the water was still settled in the basin. Pulling out braid after braid, she ran her fingers through her hair, leaving it laying in gentle waves over her shoulders and down her back. As she did so, she listened to Rafail call for his slaves. The words lit a fire in her that was hard to ignore.
Other women. In her bed. Without her permission.Without her invitation. What sort of disrespect was the lord playing at?
To disrespect another's house just because one felt they were entitled to. Not every family was of royal blood, but she was quite sure that her mother would roll over in her grave and her father would suddenly find himself healthy and able if they were to witness the way in which Rafail carried himself and paraded about their lands as if he were the king.
He wasn't a king.
He was a child, and Artemis hold her. She would kill him if another woman were to lay in that bed with him. Not because she wanted him, but because that bed was one of the few things in the world that was hers. And only hers. Their estate wasn't even hers. She had no claim to it as it would be her future husband's... if ever she were to marry. So far, it didn't seem as if that were to happen any time soon.
Thoughts of murder aside, Iris found herself slinking toward the door, not thinking about her hair or how she may look. She stood in the doorway, watching him on her kline. Her gaze was unreadable at first, then it softened slightly. "Do you always show such blatant disrespect for others, their possessions, and their homes, my lord?" her voice was quiet, earnest. There was nothing hidden there. No sign of manipulation, irritation, anger. Just a quiet plea for some sort of viable answer that maybe wouldn't continue to paint him as a villain or absolute wretch.
Her green eyes didn't leave his, even when her shoulders sunk a little and the weight of the day started to feel like she was carrying stones on her back. Iris started back toward the desk, the idea of a bath forgotten and her mind back on the work at hand.
"Do not answer that. I do not want to know," Iris murmured suddenly, gathering up her work. A knock at the door had her looking up to find one of her slaves there. "Sophia?" she asked calmly, continuing to pile the parchments together.
"Ma'am-"
"Prepare the baron's study for me, if you will," Iris cut her off, "I have a lot of work to complete tonight. Make sure that our dear visitors get everything they need, and do not tell Lord Takis about the prostitutes. I shall do so myself in the morning," she instructed, glancing upward when Sophia approached to take the parchments from her. Iris nodded her silent thanks, grabbing a few pieces of blank parchment to bring with her and a utensil for writing. "I trust the baron is long asleep."
"Yes, ma'am," Sophia said very quietly, keeping her head bowed.
"You can go," Iris noted with a tone that stated she was finished speaking. Her fingers played lightly with her father's ring around her finger, brow furrowed as she glanced out the window. Turning slowly toward him, her expression had reverted to its natural stoic state. All hints of vulnerability were gone. "A lesson for you, Lord Rafail," Iris stated calmly, taking a step toward him.
"When you act an ass, you suddenly become considerably less attractive. Ugly, in fact," she started, tilting her head at him. "Ugly words from an ugly man who throws a fit at the first sign of not getting his way. I pity any women who have fallen for your charms in the past. And I delight in knowing that I will not be one of them."
Iris took a few steps past him, not even giving him a single considering glance. "Goodnight, my lord," she noted calmly, heading for the door.
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The only thought that rang in her mind in that moment were words her father had once spoken. Disappointment that she hadn't found a husband. Disappointment that she had scared off yet another suitor. This time, she hadn't exactly scared him off as much as she'd angered him. Iris honestly expected it. The only people with enough grit to handle her were the soldier's she'd run with as a child. A few were still unmarried, and it was with one of those soldiers that she'd last lain beside.
To say that Rafail's dismissal and sudden lack of interest stung was an understatement. The feeling left her weary, tired to her bones. Iris found herself staring at the tub in the adjoining room for a few moments longer than needed, working to keep her composure against someone who seemed to break apart her temper so easily. Instead of responding, she moved to at least wash up a little.
It was customary for the servants to fill the bath toward the end of the night. Generally, Iris was out in the forest as she had been that night. So it was no surprise that the water was still settled in the basin. Pulling out braid after braid, she ran her fingers through her hair, leaving it laying in gentle waves over her shoulders and down her back. As she did so, she listened to Rafail call for his slaves. The words lit a fire in her that was hard to ignore.
Other women. In her bed. Without her permission.Without her invitation. What sort of disrespect was the lord playing at?
To disrespect another's house just because one felt they were entitled to. Not every family was of royal blood, but she was quite sure that her mother would roll over in her grave and her father would suddenly find himself healthy and able if they were to witness the way in which Rafail carried himself and paraded about their lands as if he were the king.
He wasn't a king.
He was a child, and Artemis hold her. She would kill him if another woman were to lay in that bed with him. Not because she wanted him, but because that bed was one of the few things in the world that was hers. And only hers. Their estate wasn't even hers. She had no claim to it as it would be her future husband's... if ever she were to marry. So far, it didn't seem as if that were to happen any time soon.
Thoughts of murder aside, Iris found herself slinking toward the door, not thinking about her hair or how she may look. She stood in the doorway, watching him on her kline. Her gaze was unreadable at first, then it softened slightly. "Do you always show such blatant disrespect for others, their possessions, and their homes, my lord?" her voice was quiet, earnest. There was nothing hidden there. No sign of manipulation, irritation, anger. Just a quiet plea for some sort of viable answer that maybe wouldn't continue to paint him as a villain or absolute wretch.
Her green eyes didn't leave his, even when her shoulders sunk a little and the weight of the day started to feel like she was carrying stones on her back. Iris started back toward the desk, the idea of a bath forgotten and her mind back on the work at hand.
"Do not answer that. I do not want to know," Iris murmured suddenly, gathering up her work. A knock at the door had her looking up to find one of her slaves there. "Sophia?" she asked calmly, continuing to pile the parchments together.
"Ma'am-"
"Prepare the baron's study for me, if you will," Iris cut her off, "I have a lot of work to complete tonight. Make sure that our dear visitors get everything they need, and do not tell Lord Takis about the prostitutes. I shall do so myself in the morning," she instructed, glancing upward when Sophia approached to take the parchments from her. Iris nodded her silent thanks, grabbing a few pieces of blank parchment to bring with her and a utensil for writing. "I trust the baron is long asleep."
"Yes, ma'am," Sophia said very quietly, keeping her head bowed.
"You can go," Iris noted with a tone that stated she was finished speaking. Her fingers played lightly with her father's ring around her finger, brow furrowed as she glanced out the window. Turning slowly toward him, her expression had reverted to its natural stoic state. All hints of vulnerability were gone. "A lesson for you, Lord Rafail," Iris stated calmly, taking a step toward him.
"When you act an ass, you suddenly become considerably less attractive. Ugly, in fact," she started, tilting her head at him. "Ugly words from an ugly man who throws a fit at the first sign of not getting his way. I pity any women who have fallen for your charms in the past. And I delight in knowing that I will not be one of them."
Iris took a few steps past him, not even giving him a single considering glance. "Goodnight, my lord," she noted calmly, heading for the door.
The only thought that rang in her mind in that moment were words her father had once spoken. Disappointment that she hadn't found a husband. Disappointment that she had scared off yet another suitor. This time, she hadn't exactly scared him off as much as she'd angered him. Iris honestly expected it. The only people with enough grit to handle her were the soldier's she'd run with as a child. A few were still unmarried, and it was with one of those soldiers that she'd last lain beside.
To say that Rafail's dismissal and sudden lack of interest stung was an understatement. The feeling left her weary, tired to her bones. Iris found herself staring at the tub in the adjoining room for a few moments longer than needed, working to keep her composure against someone who seemed to break apart her temper so easily. Instead of responding, she moved to at least wash up a little.
It was customary for the servants to fill the bath toward the end of the night. Generally, Iris was out in the forest as she had been that night. So it was no surprise that the water was still settled in the basin. Pulling out braid after braid, she ran her fingers through her hair, leaving it laying in gentle waves over her shoulders and down her back. As she did so, she listened to Rafail call for his slaves. The words lit a fire in her that was hard to ignore.
Other women. In her bed. Without her permission.Without her invitation. What sort of disrespect was the lord playing at?
To disrespect another's house just because one felt they were entitled to. Not every family was of royal blood, but she was quite sure that her mother would roll over in her grave and her father would suddenly find himself healthy and able if they were to witness the way in which Rafail carried himself and paraded about their lands as if he were the king.
He wasn't a king.
He was a child, and Artemis hold her. She would kill him if another woman were to lay in that bed with him. Not because she wanted him, but because that bed was one of the few things in the world that was hers. And only hers. Their estate wasn't even hers. She had no claim to it as it would be her future husband's... if ever she were to marry. So far, it didn't seem as if that were to happen any time soon.
Thoughts of murder aside, Iris found herself slinking toward the door, not thinking about her hair or how she may look. She stood in the doorway, watching him on her kline. Her gaze was unreadable at first, then it softened slightly. "Do you always show such blatant disrespect for others, their possessions, and their homes, my lord?" her voice was quiet, earnest. There was nothing hidden there. No sign of manipulation, irritation, anger. Just a quiet plea for some sort of viable answer that maybe wouldn't continue to paint him as a villain or absolute wretch.
Her green eyes didn't leave his, even when her shoulders sunk a little and the weight of the day started to feel like she was carrying stones on her back. Iris started back toward the desk, the idea of a bath forgotten and her mind back on the work at hand.
"Do not answer that. I do not want to know," Iris murmured suddenly, gathering up her work. A knock at the door had her looking up to find one of her slaves there. "Sophia?" she asked calmly, continuing to pile the parchments together.
"Ma'am-"
"Prepare the baron's study for me, if you will," Iris cut her off, "I have a lot of work to complete tonight. Make sure that our dear visitors get everything they need, and do not tell Lord Takis about the prostitutes. I shall do so myself in the morning," she instructed, glancing upward when Sophia approached to take the parchments from her. Iris nodded her silent thanks, grabbing a few pieces of blank parchment to bring with her and a utensil for writing. "I trust the baron is long asleep."
"Yes, ma'am," Sophia said very quietly, keeping her head bowed.
"You can go," Iris noted with a tone that stated she was finished speaking. Her fingers played lightly with her father's ring around her finger, brow furrowed as she glanced out the window. Turning slowly toward him, her expression had reverted to its natural stoic state. All hints of vulnerability were gone. "A lesson for you, Lord Rafail," Iris stated calmly, taking a step toward him.
"When you act an ass, you suddenly become considerably less attractive. Ugly, in fact," she started, tilting her head at him. "Ugly words from an ugly man who throws a fit at the first sign of not getting his way. I pity any women who have fallen for your charms in the past. And I delight in knowing that I will not be one of them."
Iris took a few steps past him, not even giving him a single considering glance. "Goodnight, my lord," she noted calmly, heading for the door.
