Cigno

Scène Deux

 What had Arlecchino called her earlier—a witch? It was an accurate statement. In all the stories she'd heard as a child, witches had been vengeful women who had terrorized the kingdom in their rage. Only the might of a Saint had been enough to quell the witches' rage. Unlike the women in those stories, she did not have a talent for magic. So if the Saints decided to put an end to her vengeance, she'd be powerless to stop them. 

But, Madrigal did have a wish-granter on her side, a being who was not limited to the laws of the Gods as the Saints were. And she also had another secret weapon: an overprotective, gullible young Lord who was an heir to the Prince's throne. 

"And you're certain about this?" The young Lord in question had his back turned towards Madrigal. 

"I would recognize that silhouette in a heartbeat." The tears had come easy; all she had to do was remember Allegro saying he didn't know who she was anymore and her eyes glistened. The quiver in her voice was an added bonus of the tears. But the story she'd concocted required more than a memory; it had required real skill, the talent of a silvertongue. 

Knowing her target beforehand made it easier to choose the words which would sway him. Poor Lord Luca was under the impression that she had stumbled upon a passionate embrace between Allegro and Chiarina and was uncertain about how to move forward. 

The goblet in his hand shattered; thick, red droplets of either blood or wine pattered to the floor. He seemed unfazed by his injury. Instead, her words seemed to have set a fire within him ablaze.
Whipping around, he stalked towards her. She had become so immune to his temper tantrums that she had to force her body to flinch and shiver beneath his heated gaze. 

"Worry not, Lady Madrigal, for I have a solution." He did? Her eyes narrowed; what had this simpleton come up with? "We simply need to have a proper discussion, ensure that your eyes have not deceived you."

Though his words were peaceful, his intentions were anything but. He intended to kill Allegro tonight, using the his fiancée as an excuse to enact his revenge. She could see it in the sparks in his eyes, the bulging vein twitching at his temple, the hatred radiating off his body. If that's what he needed to believe to do her bidding, so be it. Let the Ligne scion think tonight he would avenge his father. Madrigal would ensure he never laid a hand on her fiancé. 

"A proper discussion, yes," she repeated with an exaggerated sniff. 

He rolled his eyes, disgusted by her vulnerability. "We'll need to bring them to an isolated location where we won't be disturbed. Is there anywhere like that on the estate?"

She shook her head. "No. Lady Danseur has spies everywhere. And the servants are all gossipmongers anyways."

"We can't go anywhere too far—it'll draw suspicion. Nor can we cross over into Hortensia territory without risking our lives."

"I might know of a place, Lord Luca. Someplace quiet where the Famiglias can't intervene."

"Well? Spit it out."

"There's an abandoned cottage by a lake. It's completely secluded and only a few leagues from the estate. It would take no time at all on horseback."

"Hmm. And where exactly is this cottage?"

"In the Woods of Ode."

Lord Luca leaned forward, leering at her. "And why would a young lady such as yourself know of such a location, Lady Madrigal?" 

Madrigal averted her eyes, despising having to act so pathetic. "Sometimes when I need to clear my head, I like to ride outside the estate, where I'm less likely to be recognized."