An Affinity For Fire

42. Tarragon

Calio's feline grace and unreadable masks of indifference may have been intimidating, but Romira false friendliness was bloody terrifying.

Every honeyed word from her beautiful, beaming mouth dripped with poison. Every flash of her broad smile was a threat, every innocent blink a dare to step out of line. Once Calio was out of the room and the Aestasan Queen's full attention was turned to him, Tarragon had to actively remind himself to keep breathing.

"Is- is she-"

"Perfectly fine, I'm sure," Romira said, briefly laying a hand on his upper arm. "My darling daughter is rather easily overwhelmed, that's all." She frowned, brow creasing in an expertly convincing display of concern. "I must admit, I do worry for her, sometimes. She is the first heir to a chaotic kingdom, and chaotic kingdoms need strong rulers. During your stay, what did you think of her as Regent?" She cocked her head slightly, awaiting an answer.

A trap. However he answered, it was a trap. So he didn't even bother trying to concoct a safe response. He just gave her the truth.

"Honestly? In Aestas, she seemed like the most powerful woman I've ever met."

The Queen maintained her inquisitive smile, but blinked twice, hiding a flinch.

That was not the answer she was looking for.

"You must be very proud of her," Tarragon added, throwing in a sweet, false smile of his own.

"Indeed," Romira replied, the word coming out slow and tight, like she was gagging on it.

Tarragon's insides fluttered in a giddy mix of fear and triumph. He'd annoyed her, but in such a subtle, innocent manner that she could hardly punish him for it.

He hoped. He didn't want to stay around long enough to find out otherwise.

"Anyway, I'm sure you have far more important people to be talking to," he said with a deep bow. "I won't take up any more of your time. It was wonderful to meet you, your Highness."

Pleasantries out of the way, he scurried off without waiting to be dismissed. slipping through the ever moving crowd as seamlessly and invisibly as he could manage, he left the hall and marched down the empty corridor.

She was outside. In the courtyard. And she wasn't alone.

For a brief moment, Tarragon wondered if he shouldn't apologise, if maybe he should just let her hate him. She certainly had a right to. And now that he knew Dallas was with her, it wasn't like he'd abandoned her in a time of distress. Perhaps, he thought, she would prefer to be left alone with her friend than inturrupted by some feeble attempt at an apology.

But even if he didn't deserve forgiveness, she deserved an explanation. He swallowed his reservations and began wading through the snow towards her.

She noticed him approaching and pushed herself out of Dallas' embrace. "What are you doing out here?" she demanded, hastily wiping her cheeks.

"I came to apologise. And to explain."

Dallas squeezed her hand and took a step away. "I'll ... just stand over there." He crossed the courtyard to the ledge of one of the fountains, where he sat down and glowered at Tarragon.

Calio took a few shaking breaths before turning to face him. "If you're just trying to save your neck, don't bother. Fitteia already told me I shouldn't arrest you."

"That's not why I'm here," he said, although he felt a stab of guilt at the slight relief her words kindled in him.

"Then what in all Hells have you got to say? I warn you, Tarragon, if I'm to waste another moment of my life listening to you talk, your story had better be damn good."