A Crown Of Blades(ARTK, Book 3)

Chapter 117-118

Juhna 27th,3330 A.G

  Nara tried- really tried to ignore the way Renard were looking at her as she undid her braid. But it weren't the most complicated of hairstyles, and so after forty or so moments there was only so much she could do to avoid looking him in the eye. She started to undress- which he of course insisted on helping with, and then on getting her into the simple night gown.

She washed her face a little longer than usual, combed her hair longer than necessary- even spent a while staring at the fire. But eventually the tiredness did get to her, and eventually her body climbed into bed without her consent. It were there that their faces were a hand's length apart, where she couldn't avoid him if she actively tried. Nara knew she would not be able to sleep until the conversation were out of the way; and so she did not try to fight Renard on that.

"I saw the way you looked at Maruf." He mumbled. "I am... almost certain everyone else did too."

Nara sighed. Some things were difficult to spin, but by the gods she'd try.

"And what way would that be?" She raised an eyebrow. There were nothing wrong with a look- at least that's what she told herself. They'd held court together multiple times, had a husband or wife come to them multiple times asking for a punishment for their spouse- and most had been shown mercy. It'd all taught Nara that no matter what, there were always someone doing something worse.

"Like you wanted to tear one another's clothes off then and there- in front of everyone."

Nara tried not to smile at that imagery. From their simple glances she'd gotten the feeling that Maruf were the type to be gentle- less it were absolutely clear the lady wanted more. He'd start off by undoing any of her buttons, so slowly she'd want to scream and curse at him- then once those (along with her tunic and breeches) were on the floor.... Then he'd allow her to focus on his own. That would be faster; Nara had never been the most patient woman, and those around the table who hadn't disappeared yet (Andre, as he'd be drunk and busy laughing) would do so quickly. They would last a few hundred moments or a few hours- with no in between. They would regret it afterwards- or they wouldn't. The table would be uncomfortable because of her belly and the general aches in her body that came with carrying heavier- or it wouldn't. It would be worth any fallout that came after- or it wouldn't.

These were the sorts of things she would not know until it'd already happened and there were no taking it back. She wondered if Renard had had the same conversation with himself before his affair with Jean Salomon; or if any time he'd tried to have it with himself his thoughts were muddied by grief for his son.

That were something she'd never ask him, she decided.

"That is absurd-" she deflected. "Especially coming from you."

It were low, but he'd gone lower by doing it. Something flickered on his face that were difficult to read at first; but that she recognized after a few moments. That mixture of grief, Sadness and Anger she'd seen before- but that she'd never truly understand as she wasn't there when Jean's body were burned.

When Renard realized that there would only be two people there; he and her best friend. The best friend had been so angry with him, he'd never forget that even if he couldn't remember her name. Jean had left her everything she had to leave her, and a silence fell over them after the actual burning began.

She'd hated him- and he'd wondered a few times if she still did, no matter how irrelevant the opinion were. She'd likely heard much of him from travelers, had likely been brought right back to that day and that pain- over and over and over and over again. He made a mental note to inquire on how she were doing, if she needed for anything beyond what Jean had left her- as he'd taken her greatest friend.