Look Beyond What You See

Anxiety

 The dining room is more oppressive than usual this morning. Its windowless walls covered with thick red drapery and its heavy mahogany furniture always make it feel stuffy, but tension hangs over everything in a dense fog that makes it hard to breathe and unspoken words cloud the room. The servants have made themselves scarce in an effort to escape the feeling that a storm is about to break. Zinaida is oblivious to it and no part in the atmosphere, seeing as she is still struggling to wake up; despite her elegant appearance, it is plain that Wesley has dragged her to this meal for reasons I cannot fathom. Wesley, in contrast, is on high alert, like a rabbit being stalked by a bird of prey. I can almost see such a bird--a devil-servant called Anxiety--dark and torturous, hanging over him and harrying him. Dmitri's father watches his son and me, as well as the doors, as his torturing bird watches him. What does he look for? I have no way of knowing, until such a time as he sees fit to speak.

"Blast! Where has your combat tutor gotten to?" Wesley grouses irritably. His bird of prey seems to pluck at his eyelids and makes creases in his brow. "He's meant to attend breakfasts--"

"You mean he did not inform you?" I murmur with an appropriate show of surprise. It is not feigned, for once; I find it nothing less than shocking that Giacomo saw fit to leave me a rose and that note but neglected to properly take his leave from Lord Berkeley's employment.

"What do you mean?" Wesley demands, muscles stiffening under the hovering bird's touch.

"Why, he received a summons from his family in Venice, on account of the war, before all of the excitement yesterday. Shortly thereafter my grandmother scared him so badly, I've absolutely no doubt that he took advantage of the summons and fled immediately, and who can blame him? But I did think he had the decency to at least follow appropriate protocols for a leave-taking of an employed man from his place of employment, even under the unfortunate circumstances--"

"The cowardly fool. This is an outrage! We need every man we can get to face the threat that dratted sorceress poses, and he--"

"Clearly would be of no use to us in such a fight, if he is so frightened of her as to leave so unceremoniously," Dmitri points out sourly. A sideways glance at him reveals that he's rather miffed about my being so well informed of Giacomo's doings, even though I've been careful to phrase most of it as speculation and have made no mention of the potentially offensive (but really quite sweet) note that was left on my desk.

"A fair point. It is well enough, anyway. Giacomo could not teach Aerys what I intend she should learn, anyway."

"And what might that be?" I inquire. I have my suspicions about his intentions, but I might as well invite him to tell me his intentions himself. Mayhap he will surprise me.

"Your grandmother mentioned yesterday that you can obtain the same skills that she possesses. I intend that you do so," Wesley replies in a voice that dares anyone to speak against him. Unfortunately for him, I dare, and I mean to win this minor clash of wills.

"And I intend that I shall not do anything of the kind," I reply, soft yet firm. Wesley's eyes nearly pop out of his head at this crucial and unexpected bit of intelligence.

"I beg your pardon?" he growls. He is unused to being defied, especially by women.

"I've seen what her power and the influence of darkness have done to her, and I'll not have the same thing happen to me. Would you eternally bind your son to a woman like my grandmother?"

A deadly silence falls over the room. Dmitri squeezes my hand under that table.

"I would never subject him to such a thing," Zinaida proclaims vehemently (it seems that the nature and content of this discussion has startled her out of drowsiness) while shooting an icy glare at her husband for suggesting such an horrific idea as that.