World of Io

27. A Twisted Cloth

Lord Acklem paced his quarters. He was upset. That damn slip of a girl had just let his own servants tell him that dinner would be served at eight o'clock. Never had he been this close to shredding his furniture to pieces. He approached the window and looked out over the darkening sky. The horizon burned as usual, fires that refused to relinquish their hold of their kingdom. He had been out there, fighting them, but it was no use. The only thing that had been able to contain them thus far was the rain, and preventive burning. He knew it wouldn't be enough. Their days were counted, the world was ending.

His anger dissipated into submission, it was the only feeling he was able to feel while looking out into the world these days. What did it matter that Lady Darra was here to pester him? Nothing, it meant nothing in comparison. He had locked himself up here in his house, waiting to die, determined to live out all those twisted fantasies he had never dared to act upon before. Perhaps he would take this opportunity to act on his last one, the one enticed by that wretched woman. Yes, that was it, that was why she was here. The thought that surfaced in his mind vibrated throughout his body. His skin seemed to burn with excitement and he smiled, the first true smile he had ever worn.

-----

Vigilante stood with her arms out, staring discontentedly at nothing. She was being measured for the clothing she had ordered and as always, she hated it. She hated to stand in nothing but her undergarment, being prodded and pinched by uncaring hands. As a child this had held some sort of excitement: the promise of a new dress. Later on it had been something that she needed to put up with for the sake of an appearance that would tell others a story, a story that wasn't true.

She felt strangely vulnerable. She hadn't liked Lord Acklem's eyes, nor his smile, and now she was alone in his house without her weapons close. That thought made her look down on the fabric that was being pinned onto her body. She smiled smugly and snatched one of the long needles that held the dress in place. She watched as one of the girls, now fully clothed, gave her an astonished look. She must have seen her hide the needle in her hand, perhaps she was wondering how Vigilante planned to use it.

"Would you care for some refreshment milady?" the girl asked, and it was impossible to tell if she was frightened or just timid. Vigilante scowled, showing off all her bad sides to discourage anyone from getting too close. She didn't want anyone feeling comfortable enough to ask questions, or even look at her if she could avoid it. She had to keep the act intact, otherwise they would be so screwed.

The girl's eyes wavered, and finally they found something interesting on the floor instead. She relaxed slightly, but couldn't allow herself to give in to her fatigue just yet. The strain from the earlier conversation kept her tense and she would much rather have stayed put in this room, eating alone, than having a dinner with the Lord. However, she couldn't back out now, and there was a chance that they might gather some invaluable information.

She wondered where the others were. They had been shown into a different room and she hadn't found a good reason to alter that decision. Now she regretted it, they had been so close during such a long time that it felt awkward to be separated.

"Where are my servants?" she asked before she had time to consider what she was actually saying.

"They are with the guards milady," the girl answered, her eyes still surveying the floor.

"Tell them I need their immediate assistance."

"Yes milady," the girl said hurriedly as she curtsied, leaving the room in a rush.

 As she did, Lord Acklem entered, waving his hand to get the last servant out of the room before barring the door. 

Her initial reaction was to cover up her half-naked body, but she knew that any rapid movements would tell him that she was uncomfortable, that she wasn't in charge of the situation. Instead she strode over to the side of the room where she saw a robe upon its hanger, begging to be used. She saw how he followed her movements, but she refused to acknowledge the fact. She laughed to herself. To her he looked like a dog watching its bone being carried away, mouth open and drooling. She could have been frightened, but his awkward appearance reassured her: he wouldn't stand a chance.