d'enanigans: is calling it "the climax" too on point?

[nothing_to_fear]

This house has a very pleasant room for receiving honored guests.

In the fashion of House Shahrizai, the walls are richly tapestried (though not in identifying colors) and the couches are soft, finely upholstered. He has ordered the servants to stand ready with wine and light refreshment, and readier still to act should negotiations sour.

Jonathan sent a man to wait for Brix; he himself went upstairs to check on Matthieu. Finding him asleep, but well enough and in no danger, he returned to this room to wait.

He is reading a book of plants and their uses as they come in to light the torches.

Comments

[gothamsheiress]

The man who met her is tall -- considerably taller than she is, which is no mean feat -- and built like a brute from Night's Doorstep. Brix wouldn't be surprised if that's exactly who he is. After a few terse questions, he leads her to a carriage and gestures her in, then climbs up to drive the horses himself.

The curtains over the windows have been tacked closed. Brix wonders if anyone would notice if she pulled them free, then decides she doesn't care too much and does exactly that -- though only enough to lift one corner and watch the countryside go by, so she can keep track of their location.

It would be a lie to say that she is not, in some way, anxious about meeting Grue de Agen alone. But her nerves are barely noticeable, even to herself, beneath her anger. What he's done cannot, will not stand. She will go back to the City tonight with Matthieu, one way or another.

They draw up before a large house. Brix considers putting on a frightened face for this, but decides against it. She is a product of Kushiel's line and of Balm's training: to be stern and calm will suit her best.

When Grue de Agen's servants lead her to his receiving room, though, and she sees that enchantingly beautiful figure at his ease, she finds herself hard-pressed to appear stern instead of enraged.

"My lord."

[nothing_to_fear]

"Ah."

Jonathan sets his book aside, rising fluidly to bow.

"My lady. I'm so glad you've come." A faint smile. "Would you care for anything?"

He himself has touched neither wine nor food.

[gothamsheiress]

"I find I have very little appetite," she says, coolly. "Thank you, but no."

[nothing_to_fear]

"In that case, perhaps we should begin. Do have a seat."

The servant who led her in has come to stand unobtrusively to the side, a little behind Jonathan-- at an advantageous place to fetch more wine or refill goblets, if only one of them were thirsty.

There seems to be a man by the door as well.

[gothamsheiress]

She stands for a moment, glancing between the servants.

"What are you afraid I might do?" she asks finally, taking a seat opposite him, very stiff and upright. "Massage you and your men into a stupor?"

[nothing_to_fear]

"As delightful an end as I'm sure they would find it," Jonathan replies dryly, subsiding onto the cushions, "I simply prefer to proceed with caution. I would hate to do you the discourtesy of underestimating you."

[gothamsheiress]

"Why would you need to do that?" she wonders. "You seem to be holding the reins, Lord de Agen."

[nothing_to_fear]

"Would you prefer to speak of my methods, or of Matthieu?"

[gothamsheiress]

She clenches her teeth, swallows.

"Matthieu. Where is he?"

[nothing_to_fear]

"Upstairs," he says absently.

"He's perfectly all right."

[gothamsheiress]

"I would like to see him for myself, if I may."

[nothing_to_fear]

Jonathan smiles.

"Naturally. You may catch him sleeping, I'm afraid, but if that will satisfy you--"

The servants do not accompany them, but there's a man at the foot of the broad stairs, and one posted by the door upstairs, in a hallway that seems to turn in on itself.

At a nod from Jonathan, the man opens the door. The room is in darkness, but the light from the hall illuminates a figure on the bed, very still.

(There's a chair, too, but if there were ever any ropes, scarves, or other forms of binding attached to it, they've been put away.)

[gothamsheiress]

She feels her breath catch in her throat in unfeigned fear. Ignoring Grue de Agen entirely, she hurries into the room and crouches beside the bed.

Her training was in Balm House, and though she's no chirurgeon, she knows how to look for injury, for sickness, for pain even in sleep. Her fingers brush over Matthieu's hair, touch his brow, feel for a pulse beneath his jaw.

[semicharmed]

Matthieu feels feverish to the touch, but his breathing is slow and even and his expression relaxed.

(Jonathan thought, all things considered, it would be best if he slept through these negotiations. Of course, poisons are delicate creatures; he thought it best to give him only a light dose to make him sleep.

The Eluine Cycle holds that it ought to be valerian.

The fact amuses him.)

[gothamsheiress]

"Matthieu?" she murmurs, without much hope that he'll hear.

[nothing_to_fear]

Matthieu shifts, but doesn't respond.

Jonathan, for his part, simply stands at the doorway, far back enough to avoid blocking the light.

[gothamsheiress]

"Ah, dreamer." She leans forward to press a kiss to his cheek, closing her eyes. "Sleep sweet, then."

She shouldn't stay here. Havelock and the guards will be finding their way into the house soon. She wants Grue de Agen's attention, and that of his servants, on her, not on this room.

When she stands, she closes her eyes, presses her hand against her mouth, and manages shakily, "I think perhaps I would like that wine now. Is he well?"

[nothing_to_fear]

"Downstairs, then." Jonathan takes another step back to allow her out into the hall.

He is watching her, albeit with somewhat detached interest.

"He'll be well enough when he wakes. Within the next few hours, I'd imagine."

[gothamsheiress]

"And what then? Why did you take him?"

[nothing_to_fear]

He begins for the stairs.

"Ah, my lady, provided we manage to come to an agreement, he shall remain well."

[gothamsheiress]

"De Agen--" she starts, following him.

[nothing_to_fear]

"My lady nó Balm de Marsilikos."

[gothamsheiress]

"What agreement? Why did you take him?"

[nothing_to_fear]

"Because," he says mildly, stopping on the stairwell to look back at her.

"I had to be sure you would come."

[gothamsheiress]

She stares at him.

After a moment: "Surely a letter would have sufficed."