Mastermind | | Azriel

6

Elysia made some tea for herself and Azriel. To help them relax, she said. That was a heavy conversation. They should try to ease their nerves.

It did feel like it was helping. His racing heard calmed. His thoughts weren't so much of a storm of worry. Then his heart slowed a little too much though. And he felt drowsy. He looked towards Elysia, his mouth moving but no words forming. She just kept sipping from her glass of tea.

His cup slipped from his hand and she pouted at the last bit of tea ending up on her rug.

"I suppose I won't have to worry much about getting the stain out. I won't be here much longer anyway, will I?" she mused as she picked up the cup and took it to the kitchen. "You were easier than I expected, you know? You and this place and your little family. It was easier than I thought it would be." She smiled softly as she watched confusion and denial cloud his eyes. "It's okay, Az. You lost the moment you decided to play me. You never had a chance, don't be too hard on yourself."

She took Truth Teller from its sheath at his side and examined the blade.

"It's pretty," she remarked, "maybe I'll keep it. Something to remember you by."

He tried to move, and only his fingertips twitched.

"I'm not going to kill you," she told him, "I'm sort of picky about who I kill. I certainly didn't kill Rhys's mother and sister. Gods, his sister was hardly more than a child. I never would have put a hand on her. And his mother, by all accounts, was kind and lovely. So I wouldn't have hurt her either. As for Rhys...there was an offer. Someone tried to hire me to kill him. I decided not to. Maybe that was the wrong choice. Maybe letting you live is the wrong choice, all things considered. It's all about money, right? No way I could have any morals."

She stared at him for a long few moments, and he wondered if she was debating whether or not she should kill him.

"It's sad, isn't it? You didn't even really want to be loved. You just wanted to be someone's hero. And you know you never will be. You say I don't have morals? What about you? All those people you tortured during the war. People who had surrendered. People who had never even set foot on a battlefield and just had the misfortune of being married to one of the enemy soldiers. And, somehow, I'm the villain?"

He couldn't look at her, but he couldn't look away either. Couldn't do anything but stare at her and all those horrible truths she was reminding him of. He was not a hero, would never be a hero. No amount of good deeds could clean the blood off of his hands, and he would bloody his hands all over again if Rhys asked it of him. He would be the villain and the monster and whatever horrible things he had to be to protect the family he had found for himself.

She smiled at whatever she saw in his eyes.

"You're not a hero. And you lost. You thought you were so smart, didn't you? But you lost. I win."

With a hum of satisfaction at her own words, she retrieved a set of ropes from under a floorboard. Much like most of her home decor, the ropes were a pretty pale pink. He absently wondered if that was real—if she did like the color and it wasn't just part of whatever this persona she crafted was. Did she like pink? Did she like baking? Was that little sparkle in her eyes ever real? It was there now, as she gloated about winning. That had to be real then. One real thing, at least. What a bitter consolation prize.

She kept humming as she tied his wrists together in front of him, and then tied his ankles together, and his knees for good measure.

"I was going to drag this out, you know. I was having fun with you. I mean, the whole doe eyed damsel thing isn't really me, but it was nice to be...domestic," she said, motioning around the apartment. "I've never had a place like this. But it couldn't last. I owe someone your head, don't I? I suppose since it was you and not Beron Vanserra who offered the contract, I owe you your own head. Or I can do something really fun and deviate from that completely. I bet Rhys would launch an all out war if I sent you back in pieces with regards from the High Lord of Spring. Messy history there."

He would have glared if he could have.

"And, by the way, I did know you were the one to draw up the contract the whole time. I just wanted to know why, and once I had an answer, I'd decide if I should kill you for trying to play me. You lost before this even started. And then you made that comment about me not having morals, and you thought I was a male. Hurt my feelings, honestly."

She dusted her hands off and admired her handiwork with the ropes, "I don't get my feelings hurt often, by the way. So you get some points for that. I'm not unfair. But you still lose. Obviously."

She sat across from him, perched on the edge of her living room table with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She adjusted herself after a moment, moving one hand to twirl her hair around her finger and biting her bottom lip.

"Ugh," she groaned after a long few moments of quiet contemplation, "I should kill you. I don't want to, because it's more fun to let you live knowing you could have won if you'd just opened your eyes. But you know my face. You know my name. And you'll probably be the type to hold a grudge instead of just taking the loss and moving on. Especially if your precious little High Lord really wants me dead for something I did not do."

She stood suddenly, straightening out her dress.

"You're a problem. I don't like problems, Azriel. But you're a problem for me and I'm a problem for you and where do we go from there? I don't think either of us would be happy with a ceasefire."

She cast another look at him before going back to the kitchen to make something for dinner. She continued debating the point aloud as she cooked. Azriel could feel the drug beginning to wear off. His throat was horribly dry, and speaking hurt a little, but he did it anyway.

"You cheated," he accused, and she raised her eyebrows. "You had an advantage. You knew me and I didn't know you. Not a ceasefire. A rematch. A fair rematch."

And it was an easy solution. Not because she fell for the obvious bait, but because she didn't want to kill him. They both knew she didn't want to kill him. They both knew she would take this out he was offering.

She grinned wide, and he found he liked that a lot more than he liked that soft and sweet smile he had grown accustomed to.

"You really think you can beat me? I'm the best for a reason," she mocked, and her eyes were sparkling again.

"Rematch," he repeated, and she nodded.

"Rematch."