Varya lets her smile grow just a little before she releases Cadmar's chin from her clutches. She pushes him away gently, floating backwards a few feet herself, an evil glint behind her eyes. She likes this, this feeling of dread and helplessness that she injects into people, this power she has finally grown into. The power to force people to respect her -- even if they didn't want to. It was respect her or die, in her world. And because of that, she knew that, in the end, she would get her money... her respect... and still foster that fear in people's hearts that would keep them from ever daring to betray her or her kingdom.
She finds Cadmar's eyes with her own and nods her head gingerly. A sign of dismissal. A sign that the clock has started ticking. A sign that he should be far from here already, working to get her the coins---
"I'll pay for him, then."
Varya's eyebrows twitch at the familiar tone. She spins around, her dress fanning out in a perfect circle around her ankles as she does, her icy gaze landing on her brother, his frame half-hidden in the dark threshold between the Eternal Hall and the rest of the palace. She glares at him. His good looks woe the maids nearest him and usher forth a short wave of swoons that makes her sick. She nearly sticks out her tongue at him before she remembers it's a stupid, childish maneuver -- and certainly one not to perform in the presence of her people. It maddens her still when she sees Vallerie leap from her spot on the throne and run into a hug with Vincent. She can see Vallerie's little lips move and the way Vincent's eyes narrow at her words. The thought fuels her malevolence.
She resorts to her words. Cold, sharp, and dangerous words.
"You spoil my fun, Vincent," she hisses. "I hope you plan to stand up to your actions... and where, pray tell, do you think you're getting the coins from? Because imperial funds are not yours to throw away to every beggar who comes crawling in for money."
She sneers at him from across the hall. Then, with a wink in Altenna's direction, she turns back towards Cadmar.
"Well, Cadmar... it seems you might have a lucky donour. If my brother knows well enough to not take from my personal stores... I suggest you start praying he won't be so bold."
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Bronzor's men careen down hallway after hallway after Joris, the sound of their metal boots against the polished, flawless marble erupting into an orchestra of tinks, clinks, and thuds. They manage to chase Joris into a dead-end hallway... until the boy disappears on them. The leader of their party signals the group to stop as a maid emerges from one of the adjacent rooms, her face flustered and her arms crossed in annoyance.
"Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am," says the lead knight, dipping his head to her. "'Ave you seen a citizen 'round 'ere some'ere? Short, dir'y sorta fello'?"
The maid raises her head to the knight. A mental battle wages behind her hazelnut eyes -- the words of the boy still linger in her mind, and yet she knows if she fails to divulge anything she knows about the situation to the knight, it might mean her life.. a prison sentence... any number of horrible consequences for interrupting an official investigation. She bites her lip. Her hand balls into a fist against her arm.
"I haven't seen anyone, sir," she mutters, her head down. "If I do, I will call for you immediately, of course."
"Much appre'iated, ma'rm," responses the guard with a second bow. He signals to his troops, and without another word, the whole squadron stomp down a new hallway until they round the corner and are no more.
The maid rubs her arm. She bites her lip a second time. Blood dribbles down onto her chin.
"You'd best be out of here, young'un," she talks to the open door in a voice just above a whisper.