16.3

Cai knocked loudly, then opened the door cautiously. He heard the raised voices from out in the hallway and assumed they would not hear the knock. He felt the tension crackle in the air as Dirk and Zyrdicia glared at one another with sexually charged fierceness. He was glad he had intruded when he did. Leaving them alone together much longer would have made interrupting a lost cause. He cleared his throat.

They both turned and demanded in unison, "WHAT?!"

"A thousand pardons. Our guests have gathered in the dining room and await the arrival of the 'happy couple.'" He smiled thinly. It was quite obvious that they preferred to remain here quarrel. He knew them both well enough to see that they were enjoying themselves tremendously.

Portia ducked in through the doorway under the seneschal's arm. Cai might have been obliged to be polite, but she certainly was not. She scolded sternly, "Get over yourselves! It hasn't been that long. Right now there are dozens of people expecting to congratulate you and be told what wonderful things this will mean for the North. You aren't done performing yet. Out!"

16.3.1

Dirk and Zyrdicia walked in strained silence to the dining room. "Take my arm," he ordered bruskly before they entered.

"Shall I sever it first?" she whispered through a beguiling smile, wrapping her hand around his forearm as the doors were thrown open for them. "Frankly, given a choice right now, there are other parts of you I would rather sever."

He leaned near her and whispered menacingly, "Stop now, or I give you my word, the only thing that will be severed will be your tongue!"

Her mysterious smile undiminished, she inclined her head toward him as though he had just whispered some loving sentiment. "You would miss it more than I would," she countered barely loud enough for him to hear.

Through her thin gloves, she pinched his forearm cruelly as they walked. He was wearing an elegant shirt of black silk, not his usual armor. He glanced at her momentarily, but otherwise ignored her effort to provoke him. He would deal with her later, when they no longer had an audience.

They took their seats at the head table. Zyrdicia ignored the food on the plate. She was much too distracted by the need to trade clandestine barbs with Dirk, and by the jumble of thoughts and smells again accosting her. She was once again deluged with sensory stimuli. The meat on her plate was utterly uninteresting. The mortal smells were quite intriguing, though. They smelled almost...appetizing. Her stomach growled unexpectedly. She could smell their blood. She had never smelled it so strongly from within intact bodies. It sloshed loudly in each person's veins.

She looked over and realized Dirk was muttering something. "Hm? I didn't hear you," she said, distracted.

He shot her a quick, irritated look as though she were mocking him. Before he could respond, a round of toasts began. She had to force herself not to roll her eyes. They suffered through endless well wishes from various noblemen who had been at Mora Valley or profited from the economic miracle earlier in the season. They got through the rest of the meal playing their roles wonderfully. Beneath the table, he held her hand painfully as though he intended to crush every bone in it. She glanced down at it and smiled. It was good to be back. She adjusted her position upon the chair so that her knees brushed against his thigh beneath the table.

After dinner, the crowd moved into the Great Hall to socialize and ponder the wondrous things afoot. "You have done all that is required. Return to your quarters!" Dirk ordered in a whisper to Zyrdicia as the mass of people moved out of the dining room.

Zyrdicia shook her head, "Nice try. No way. I don't disappear on command. I'm not finished yet." She was getting better at separating out the individual scents and thoughts. I need to play with it some more amid the meat - err, crowd, she thought eagerly. She half-wished Azriok were still around in this world. He would have been able to help her make sense of the change. But then, if he were still around, none of this would be necessary.

"What are you planning?" Dirk asked carefully, tightening his death-grip on her hand. Anyone looking at them would have thought the gesture was affectionate. She smiled, her eyes widening innocently. That facial expression alone was enough to tip Dirk off to the fact that she intended mischief.

"So many of them haven't had a chance to meet me yet," she replied impishly. She looked down at her hand clasped in his, then added, "I feel a need to let them adore me."

Baron Reznit walked up to them then, beaming. He bowed reverently before her. She offered him her free hand. He kissed it, just above the ring that now adorned it. The normally ill-tempered nobleman smiled, "My lady, the North is truly blessed by your presence!"

Zyrdicia shot Dirk a quick, sidelong glance and replied, "True. Perhaps more blessed than it yet realizes." She smiled mysteriously, inhaling deeply and catching the baron's blood's scent separately from the others. "Lord Reznit, it's lovely to see you again. As often as you have visited the Blackpool court, I have never had the honor of meeting your family. It would please me if you would present them to me."

Reznit smiled widely, delighted by the request. "The honor would be mine, if the prince can spare your company for a moment," he responded, glancing at Dirk expectantly.

"Of course," Dirk said cordially, disguising his irritation. Baron Reznit was one of the men whose consent he would need to claim the throne. He was also one of only two aristocrats whose support was conditional upon Zyrdicia's association. Denying the request was out of the question. Zyrdicia glanced at the prince coyly as she departed on the older man's arm, enjoying her strategic advantage. Her game was not lost on the prince.