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Veldor swip
ed back his hair, nonchalantly easing back and resting his weight on the wooden table. He crossed his legs at the ankle and stared at Bron, calm and yet quizzical. “Share?"
Bron nodded, his long dark hair shifting as he threw his cloak back over his shoulders, breaking eye contact again. “Your ideas were ... rebellious. Undisciplined.” He seemed to choose his words with great care. “However, I have had time to consider them within the grander picture."
"And?” Veldor would not make it easy. He enjoyed watching the master elder's favored apprentice struggling to conceal his true beliefs.
Bron's dark eyes were watchful. “And, if you have gathered a plan of action, I might wish to join forces with it."
"I see.” A likely story, Veldor mused. But he chose to let his mind show that he believed. For the time being. “The only problem is, Bron, that I did ask you to come with me when I left Western Tor.” He fixed him with an accusing stare.
"You did.” Bron dropped his gaze, his eyelids lowering. Emotions shifted within him.
Veldor sensed them rise and fall in the atmosphere. He probed Bron's mind. The emotions closed off in response. “You know. I thought that I almost had you convinced at one time."
"Your ways seemed ... extreme.” Again, Bron appeared to choose his words carefully. “I was not ready to see that it might be the only way."
"Well, you're here now.” Veldor laughed. “But, tell me, what makes you think I give a damn about Edren? We have traveled. We've made friends in far places.” He glanced at Cale, who hastily nodded his agreement. “We are close to the border. I could just leave. Damn Edren. Why not let the cursed hordes have it? It's nothing to me.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Let the whole place sink into a squalid mire, for all I care."
"You traveled, yes, but you came back. Now.” Bron gave a slight smile. “When we are but four moons away from the prophecy."
"Quite so,” Veldor conceded, with a grin. “I confess that I am curious.” And hungry, I am hungry for it. See that in my soul, Bron the just.
Bron stared at him, as if considering his words, both those spoken and those silent. He took a deep breath and gestured with one hand, palm upward. “When I heard that Maerose had gone with you,” he paused, “I began to wonder if you had come to some arrangement with her, a plan?"
Veldor laughed. “She did not come with me, as you are well aware. I took her."
Anger flashed through Bron.
Aha. Veldor followed the emotion, tried to pry deeper, but as soon as he did, the door closed again. Nothing, no chinks. Bron was showing him as little truth as possible. He'd armed himself well to resist being read. But Veldor knew a way to open him up, a way to cripple him. He stood. “Come. Before we talk further on the matter, you will want to see Maerose."
Oh, yes, that snapped him out of his stoic act of humility.
Bron's eyes flashed, his mouth tightening. “Do you think that wise?"
Triumph reared in Veldor. “It would be inhospitable of me not to let you see the maiden we all crave, don't you agree?"
He did not wait for Bron's reply. Instead, he gestured for him to follow, setting off through the corridors, into a nearby room. Dutiful footsteps echoed behind him, yet the scent of reluctance was heavy on the air. That alone brought Veldor pleasure. He licked his lips in anticipation of pushing the knife deeper.
Entering the viewing room, he walked past the lattice screen and stopped, turning back. When Cale and Bron closed in behind him, he glanced down into the room below. “She's quite, quite beautiful."
Bron's head snapped round as he followed Veldor's gaze. Staring through the screen, his eyes flickered as he took in the sight of Maerose imprisoned in the room below. His hands fisted. Silent chaos poured out of him, briefly unabated as he came to terms with what he saw.
Veldor took a deep, satisfied breath. “Beautiful, yes, but I am disappointed that she is not as pleading, nor as pliant, as I had hoped."
Bron turned back to him, his eyes narrowed.
Veldor laughed at the silent disapproval he read in his adversary's expression. “I suppose that might change, with time—and persuasion. Even the supplest of stems breaks under pressure, don't you agree?"
Again a spurt of chaos emitted from Bron. Quickly it was drawn back. Masked.
"She is mine, Bron. Mine. I want you to understand that, completely."
"I see that, Veldor, I see it.” He spoke calmly, but his eyes were hooded, shuttered.
Veldor grimaced. Annoyance was getting the better of him. Annoyance that Bron hadn't argued with him. “Not closely enough, perhaps.” He turned to Cale. “Cale, lead the way. It is time for Maerose and Bron to meet."
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