Ell

Dinner. I step as lightly as possible through the big oak-wood doors. Arde, one of the poised doormen, required to be stiff and formal by definition, smiles at me and winks as he pulls the heavy wooden barrier open. I try to smile back, but that plank of oak was the only thing between me and the inevitable attack, and as much as I hate to admit it, I'm frightened. Not of the fight. That, I'm used to. I'm afraid that it will be one of those days.

  He is bending over a plate of steaming truik eggs, reading something I can't make out. He doesn't look up as I take my seat on the opposite end of the long table. On party nights it holds twenty-six, but this evening it's just me, sitting across from him at the polar end of the table. I inspect my meal, careful not to let the silver fork clink against the plate as I lift it. Instead of truik eggs, Berndell's fixed me roasted partridge with a honey sauce. Its delectable aroma swirls through my nose and curls into the part of my brain that signals to my stomach. As if in reply, that bothersome organ lets out an unearthly growl that would waken the dead.
His head lifts up. He's startled, but doesn't show it. A slow smile breaks across his face. At first I'm relieved, but then I see a different, almost wary hint of remorse in his eyes. It's as if, against his own will, he's regretting last night.

 "I see you're still alive." A simple statement that invalidates my entire existence in one breath. Would he care if I wasn't? Burying the pain he's caused so easily, I meet that sly grin with a coy curve of my mouth. I shudder inwardly, knowing I'm his very reflection.

 "No thanks to you and your poison." I reply as the maid, Anna, enters with the second course. It's a creamy white soup sprinkled with dalize berries.. I take a delicate sip, racking my brains and considering which is the best dart to throw on a night like this. I decide to play the currency card and attack his coffers. "Oh, incidentally, I so ill that I had to have luncheon served to me in my room, and I'm afraid several dishes were broken." I sip my soup infuriatingly calmly. "I hope you don't mind." I glance up just enough to smile and see if his knuckles are turning white as he grips a silver spoon. They're not. All of a sudden I see waves of sadness radiating from his being.

And that's when I know that it's one of those days.