[hr][hr][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/50VBWNfh/63507c917b644ae085a53d695ad43269.png[/img]
[img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/2fa3b68ea7ccb5e241580009fa3f8dfe/tumblr_nrjjdcXvK71uq1wtvo1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][h3][b][i][center][color=8519A2]Arc I - Terreille in Trouble[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h3]
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[center][h3][color=8519A2]Location: Winton[/color][/h3]
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Faeril sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the needlework she had settled back to do while their uninvited guest was below. It would hardly do for the Queen who presided over Winton to realize there was a Black Widow in her midst. The trouble that would cause could claim the life of the hope that the Eyrien woman had for their realm. As the thin needle slipped in and out of the cloth, Faeril's thoughts returned to her, dissatisfied with Fatima's reaction to her words. [i]'Liar.'[/i] She scolded herself absently as she crossed her ankles demurely. [i]'You just want to know what she meant by 'one of mine'. To find that one of this Lady Alice's men to belong in heart and soul to Fatima!'[/i] Shaking her dark head, Faeril hesitated slightly as a nagging suspicion came to her. Could it be a trap? A lure cast by another Black Widow? Faeril would like to think not, but there was reason for caution. Biting her lip and wondering if she dared risk it, she sent a tendril of thought along the Red to Jandar. A slim caress along his barriers to be accepted before she spoke mind 
to mind with the Warlord. [color=SlateBlue]'[i]Do keep an eye upon him. He may belong to her, but unless I can take a look myself, he could be spelled by a Black Widow. Be careful.'[/i][/color] The Black Widow's mind voice was soft, a spider's whisper as she withdrew unless someone reached out to her.

Denvar and Gennar blinked in slight shock as Fatima became a simpering woman. Privately Denvar was very glad Faeril was up in the rooms where she could not see this farce being played out. Necessary or not, he doubted she would have been able to keep a straight face. Sharing a raised brow with his older brother the Warlord Prince shrugged slightly. The voice of the Warlord Prince was surprising and both brother wondered as to what caused it, but that would not be the last surprise for them. The man had dropped his glass, which Denvar had grabbed by the Craft and placed upon the counter, as Faeril basically moved to abscond with the lad. Denvar would have intervened but for a subtle shake of Gen's head. The Green Jeweled Eyrien considering Sybl with narrowed eyes. [color=FireBrick]"The Lady would require an escort of her own."[/color] He rumbled to Fatima in a polite reminder. [color=FireBrick]"Perhaps finding a dress and the beach after would allow time for the makers to suit it better to the Lady's liking?"[/color] The words were far more elegant than any average Eyrien, then again Gen had lived with Faeril for centuries. He had picked up a few things.