"Should you sign this then you are no longer Velin's concern. My offer to him is business as usual but hardly a bargain. No. You will be mine and all that that entails."
Alicia looked back into burning coals of his gaze, her forehead furrowed with concern. From one hungry patron to another. If nothing else, counting on this one's protection against the wrath of Velin Deal had more odds of success than coming crawling back to him after her failed burglary.
There was an odd mixture of danger and protection to him. She had no doubt Velin might exercise caution around this one. Perhaps, this could be her way of paying him back for extorting her services.
But who was to say this lord wouldn't do exactly the same thing?
"I am now in the process of taking up a longstanding position on the Allirian Merchant Council I have toyed with the prospect of claiming for some time now. The law of the land, as it were, and from my side you will have power beyond what your beggar-king could ever imagine."
Leaning back in his seat Petrus would scan Alicia's eyes in subtle, searching motions, his pupils moving in barely-perceptible flits as he asked.
"That is, if you are not tired of being the novel oddity beneath his heel, Alicia Blackbolt? And if you are ready to be something more than the circus act we both know they whisper of you as, my Pneria."
The muscles in her neck worked with effort and a lump appeared in her throat, as if Velin's ghostly hand could constrict her voice from accepting. Petrus was intending to take over the
city? Madness. Absolute madness.
Run, she could almost hear Velin's velvety voice urge,
run as far away as you can. This one is beyond you. Alicia bit her lower lip, her foot tapping restlessly below the table.
At his mention of her name, her eyes went back down to the parchment, hooded with thought, darting as if searching for something between its letters. Some sort of trap, perhaps. By now, she knew he was working her. This had all been an elaborate scheme to secure her loyalty, it seemed - or perhaps rob Velin of one of his agents. But why? To take over
Alliria itself?
So what manacles rested within these written words? What had she missed? The offer itself seemed too good to be true.
Finally, she sighed, closing her eyes. It was just a piece of parchment. Lordlings might adhere to carefully worded paragraphs and letters of agreement, weaselling around with their scribes, but such games were not for her ilk. She didn't
have to be bound by it. What was a splotch of ink on a shaven piece of tree to dictate her fate?
Her eyes opened with her decision, staring at Petrus' awaiting eyes, a lurking dragon in a cave of shadows. She would test his offer and see if these wealthy promises would actually materialise from the page. Indeed, she was tired of being under his heel, though she suspected it wouldn't be much different under this one. Stick it to Velin, then, and if this one let down his word, then stick it to him, too. They would all learn what it meant to defy the Blackbolt.
She picked up the
quill with sudden, defiant alacrity, as if she simply wanted this over with, quickly as possible. But when she grasped it, a small stab of pain jolted from her finger. Alicia sucked in a brief breath through her teeth, looking down to a see a single drop of blood. A little fragment of glass, pushed further into her finger, from her earlier clenching of her drink.
She scrabbled out the tiny shard, watching a bead of blood bubble to the surface no matter how much she wiped it.
Oh, piss off, she thought, hefting the quill, dipping it in ink and signing the damn thing.
Blood mixed ever so gently with ink, adding a faint vein of crimson to the cursive A - X that made up for her signature. It was as economical and rarely seen as herself, written like slashes of a tiny blade.
With a decisive sniff, she slid the parchment back in his direction, leaning over the table. Her dress crinkled and glittered in a movement not suited for it, and as Alicia returned to her erect, seated stance, she adjusted it absent-mindedly, finding it far too loose for comfort. She flicked back her hair with a hand, unconciously sorting herself out for this agreement.
Petrus Ritus Iskandar