He had sent a messenger ahead, to inform her of the visit. He had no wish to have a vase flung at him. Something almost like a smile hovered at the corners of his withered lips. She got her spirit from her father. Briefly, he considered ordering that all heavy objects be removed from her rooms. No. That was not how to begin with her. She must not think that he feared her, nor know, completely, just how much power she held. This would be a delicate negotiation, one only he could perform.
As he had commanded, the Duke was carried to Chassim’s chambers. The locks were unfastened. ‘Knock!’ he ordered the guard who had begun to open the door. The startled man hesitated, as if questioning his order. Then he hastily rapped on the heavy panel of the wooden door and called out, ‘Lady Chassim, you are honoured with a visit from the Duke!’
A moment of silence stretched almost long enough to be insolence. Just short of defying him, she called, ‘Enter and honour me, then.’
His guards looked uncertain. Had she mocked the Duke? Were they required to kill her? He found it almost amusing, and he nodded for them to obey.
They carried him into a sunny room with thick carpets on the floor. There was a cage of songbirds in one corner and a table with a silver bowl of fresh fruit from his hothouse. Evidently courtiers had already begun to send her favours. How quickly word spread in his court! He narrowed his eyes and decided to put a stop to it. Nothing must enter this room save that he sent it. To him she must come for any little favour she sought. She must depend on him for every single thing, even a glass of water or a husk of bread. For he knew his life now depended on her.
‘A pleasant room,’ he reminded her as they lowered his chair to a spot before her hearth. A slight motion of his head dismissed his guards and bearers. He did not deign to watch them leave. He would not take his eyes off her. Witches were best watched closely. She had muffled herself most peculiarly, covered her entire body in drapery from head to foot. All he could see was her face, but at the same time he took in the details of the room. He listened to the door close behind them as he met his daughter’s gaze.
A divan in the corner held his dragon-man. He was very still but the sheet that swathed him rose and fell. By the divan were a tray bearing partially consumed food and a glass with the dregs of wine in it. So, she had fed him and the creature had eaten. Good. ‘Plenty of sunlight,’ he added to her lack of response.
‘There would be more, were there not bars on the window.’