FOREVER KNIGHTS: #6 Malevolent Attentions

WaterRose, Meadow Mountain, Grier Country (Elsabet captive for twenty years)

SEBASTIAN

Elsabet spent the majority of her days cloistered in the library with Quandary sitting at her feet. Tonight, she snuggled in the red chair warmed by the fireplace. The seat worn from her constant presence.

But today, Quandary was nowhere to be found.

She’d arrived in the library to find the ever-constant fire burning.

Bast willed it to always burn for her. Keeping the room cozy.

Book in lap, she was absorbed in quests completed by a knight of the Round Table and his trusted friend, Merlinus. Elsabet’s attention lapsed from the book as she ran a hand through her hair. Instantly feeling eyes, she looked around.

From the corner of her eye she caught him standing in the doorway. Leaned against the frame.

He noted she tried to avert her attention to the book. Deciding to be a bit more intrusive he strode in, seating opposite her. Proceeding to quietly watch her read.

“I feel your eyes.”

“Strange.” His voice absent the usual inviting note.

“I grow tired of you analyzing my every movement.” She dropped the book to her lap as she looked up at him. Head tilting instantly as she fully looked at him. “Something is wrong.”

Perceptive.

“Is it?”

Her eyes narrowed on him, but he didn’t move.

“You’ve cut your hair.”

That’s what everyone thinks at first. It waved back from his forehead to run smoothly along the sides and back of his head. Curling a bit at his nape.

“Have I?”

“Who are you?” It was clear in her posture she was anything but relaxed. She softly closed the book and deliberately folded her hands over the thick cover.

She knows.

“Impressive.” He rose to pace before her. Gaze steady on her. An exact mimic of how Bast moved.

Her power vibrated through her body with the energy of a clenched fist powering through a stone wall. She plans to drop me where I stand if I make a move toward her.

She’s certain I’m not him.

“You’re powerful, indeed.”

An understatement. She’s generating it in tidal waves.

Though she appeared at leisure, she clutched the edge of the binding in a white-knuckled fist. Silver-white hair hanging around a face nearly too pointed to be beautiful but with blue eyes so striking she could mesmerize a man. Blinding him while she struck. He realized.

She’s dangerous. He circled behind the chair and outstretched his fingertips to trail them along the back of her chair, disturbing her long, thick hair. Making it instantly turn black and coarse as a horse’s mane. But just as abruptly, it was back to glistening silver. Shining as though never disturbed.

He paused and noticed her demure posture. But her eyes rolled sideways, tracking him in her peripheral, like a predator eying prey. Ready to attack.

Despite her careful efforts, her neck tensed and jaw tightened.

“You move like him. You look like him. Were I not me, I’d probably think you were him with a trim. But you…” She shook her head. “You’re not the King of this Castle of Water.”

“King of the Castle of Water, is he now?” He laughed. “He’ll love that.”

Her jaw tightened. She studied his clothing carefully. A bored look on her face.

Insightful.

Our manner of dress is the most different thing about us. He was aware.

“Lord Bodane favors fine Grier country silks and satins, down to his highly polished boots. You are not him.”

I’m not Bast.

“I most certainly am Lord Bodane.”

“You are not.”

Yes, yes, I am.

“Care to wager?” He cocked his head at her.

“You wear plain cotton, tied conservatively at your neck there. And vested over. Your lacings well closed…Something of which he, is incapable.” She pointed out. “Your dress bespeaks you’re humble, reserved. Both of which he is not.”