 How confident she was! She stood there unflinching as her little band fell apart around her. She was a magnificent creature; all sinew and scorn. The Duchess peered down her nose as well as any lady. Her neck twisted slightly at its full extension to emphasise the proud angle of her jaw. As the others faded into a haze of irrelevance, Mordred found himself unable to take his eyes off her. For the first time in a long time he longed to shed his stage paint and reveal his true self. Her bitter beauty was the most interesting thing he’d seen in weeks.
“I don’t need money,” Mordred said, his lip curling in one of his more unpleasant smiles. He held his ground as she advanced and his haunting blue gaze fixed upon her face. The information he gleaned through his telepathy almost forced his smile into laughter.
What did she know? Everything he had he had won for himself through his own genius. He had been born to his false-mother in a hovel; an idiot of a woman of no ambition with the unbecoming cruelty of a child pulling the wings from flies. Mordred had taught himself how to watch and to learn. He had taken mastery of his magic, and in the perversion of Gwythr’s Labyrinth the boy had discovered what an asset his face could be. No one had told him he was the brother of a king; he had deciphered the truth of his origins on his own. Birth had given him the tools he needed to get what he wanted, true...but wasn’t that the same for anyone who had ever reached for power? Was it not true of this mummer’s Duchess?
“Do you know why?” Mordred asked The Duchess, ignoring Gaiane’s cry of warning. His eyes flicked to the woman’s out-stretched hand as he wrapped the entire clearing in a bubble of magic-cancelling equilibrium. He felt it the moment Gaiane’s powers were knocked out. The faint crackle of electricity which had been circulating through his system since his arrival suddenly cut out. No matter; he was powerful enough on his own. Mordred reached out suddenly and took a firm hold on The Duchess’ hand. Nothing happened. His smile grew wider until it revealed the sharpness of his canines more fully.
“Power,” Mordred explained, caressing the word as it slipped coyly off his tongue. “Now, I’m feeling patient, I’d take advantage of that fact if I were you. Hand over the girl and we’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”
Mordred didn’t move, but the earth beneath their feet began to quake.
“I’m also feeling generous,” he continued, raising the fire wall around the clearing a little higher, “so if you comply quickly I won’t inform the lady’s mother who stole her daughter.” He smiled again. “You see, whilst I am bound by my brother’s laws and fairy decency, Gaiane’s mother is not. I would suggest that next time you attempt kidnap you do a little more research into exactly who you’re kidnapping.” Mordred glanced over at the girl a small distance away and gave her a reassuring smile. She was going to be okay. Promptly the earth stopped shaking, and Mordred tightened his grip on The Duchess’ hand.
“Shall we shake on it?” he asked pointedly.
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