Private Tales Poisoned Words For the Heart

[Greydon]

Greydon was blatantly staring now.

Fuck, Imogen looked too good. He had not been able to see her for so long it felt like, and now, here she was in the Plaza being paraded around by Ilir who did not even spare Grey a second glance. That part made him curious, since he knew he had been subjected to his cousin's ire for many years now.

Perhaps Ilir thought he had won.

Greydon smirked, approaching. Imogen was staring at him still, and Ilir was too busy conversing with the jeweller to notice his approach.

"Remnan, I am here to collect." He announced. The jeweller looked to him and grinned.

"Yes! Be one moment, Squad Leader. The perfect pearl..." he left Ilir's side to go to his cart, and from there produced a wooden box smoothed to perfection. It was a dark stain, and upon opening it, revealed the midnight blue velvet lining. Inside, a pearl hung from a silver chain.

It was handed to Greydon, who stared at Imogen a good moment before meeting Ilir's gaze. "Picking up for Eira." He said before shooting Imogen a wink. Fuck. He liked playing bold. It was unlike him, but there was a fire burning inside him ever since he left Imogen's room that night.

"Be sure to visit her, Lady Imogen. I know my cousin would enjoy having someone to speak about weddings and dresses. Tonight, perhaps? I can bring back word to Eira."

Ilir stiffened. "I am on patrol tonight with the Thunder, I will not be home..."

Greydon quirked a brow. "The ladies do not need someone to chaperone them. Let the brides have their time together." And with Ilir not around... perhaps Greydon could sneak to see Imogen again.

 

[Imogen Celreos]

Greydon’s presence was that quiet command that drew every part of her attention like a tide to the moon. She kept her expression schooled, smiling faintly at the jeweller as if nothing were amiss, though her pulse had begun to thrash beneath her skin.

“Silver would be lovely…” she murmured, voice soft and even, though her fingers trembled ever so slightly against Ilir’s arm.

And then Greydon was there.

Her pulse hitched the moment he spoke, and when his eyes met hers, when that wicked, knowing smirk tugged at his lips, it was all she could do not to betray herself entirely. What are you doing? she wanted to hiss, the panic flashing briefly in her eyes before she hid it behind another polite smile.

Her gaze fell to the box he opened, the silver chain catching the light, the pearl gleaming like a secret. The air seemed to thicken as she realised just how close he was standing. And then, he winked.

Imogen’s breath stuttered, and she turned her face slightly away, pretending to examine a tray of rings to disguise the flush that bloomed across her cheeks. Her throat was too tight to speak for a moment, but she cleared it delicately, summoning her best imitation of composure.

“I would love to catch up with Eira..” she said quietly. Her hand tightened around Ilir’s arm, the gesture soft but deliberate, a reassurance, a careful anchor. She tilted her face up to him with a small smile, perfectly sweet, perfectly composed.

“As you said, my lord, I’ve been cooped up too long. It would do me some good.”

Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes flickered to Greydon for the briefest moment, a silent warning hidden in their depths.

 

[Greydon]

Whatever warning she had to give, Greydon chose to ignore it.

He liked seeing Ilir unsettled, trying to scramble for a way to seize power in this situation.

Greydon grins at Imogen, staring at her without any other care but to simply gaze upon her beauty. "Good. I think Eira will be pleased to see you. I will be sure to tell the kitchens to prepare some sweets and such for the both of you."

It was hard to tear his gaze from her, but Grey now looked to Ilir. "Always a pleasure, cousin." And moved on before Ilir could say anything else. The poor Lord stared after his cousin, watched as he moved all strength and dangerous, back towards his dragon that waited for him.

"Of course... my lady Imogen." Ilir frowned, but it softened when he looked to her. "Yes, I suppose you should spend time with my sister. A bond between brides..."

He turned back to stare at Greydon, wondering what this change in Tomyris was...

 

[Imogen Celreos]

Imogen swallowed hard, heat coiling low in her stomach as Greydon’s grin carved straight through her carefully maintained composure. Gods, she squirmed under it, unable to stop herself. She dipped her chin, lashes lowering, doing everything she could to hide the traitorous twitch of a smile threatening the corner of her mouth.

Her heart didn’t settle until he finally turned his back to them, and even then, she found herself glancing after him, breath loosening in a soft, helpless sigh.

Only when Greydon was far enough away did she shake her head, letting a quiet, incredulous laugh escape on the exhale.

“I can see how you might find him impossible,” she murmured.

She cast an apologetic smile up toward Ilir before turning back to the array of rings, reaching for the nearest silver band as though nothing at all had just stolen the breath from her lungs.

Imogen forced her focus back to the task at hand, but her fingers weren’t entirely steady

 

[Greydon]

Ilir snorted, "It does please me that you see him the way I do..." His eyes watched her hands as she perused. There was a gentleness, a preciseness, and Ilir wondered what it would be like to hold. "Perhaps you should find a way to... deal with him, tonight."

He stepped closer, a hand coming up to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Get close to him and find a way, Imogen."

---

Greydon did not need to approach the viper's nest, but he came at the behest of his Mother. Lady Tomyris held onto his arm, and together they were clearly of Malennis descent. Melysa Tomyris always had a close resemblance to the late Lord Malennis, and Greydon favoured her in his own looks. It was his eyes, Tomyris grey, that set him apart.

"You truly do not need me here, Mother."

"And yet Eira insisted."

"Only because she knows something and I do not want her to ruin things." He sighed with exasperation as the tall home now blocked the moonsllight and shrouded them in darkness in the comfort of night.

"Ah, then." His mother smiled, failing to keep the glee from her voice. "It is a woman then. There was mention another guest would be present, and I have heard the family news..."

"You are a wicked mother. Gods, they should have given you a daughter instead." But Greydon matched her large grin. His mother knew when to not pursue a topic, and Grey was relieved she did not latch on and needle him for information.

They were early, or at least, that was how it felt stepping into the halls of the Malennis home. Eira stood waiting at the balconette of the entry hall, dressed in a grey so dark, it neared black. The embroidery was in gold, and detailed the most elaborate patterns across her bodice. Greydon noticed it straight away, stifling his knowing smile.

His cousin insisted on pretending to appear as if she were mourning still, but out of protest at being sold off to marry into the Solherres. It was to spite others in their family, and Grey knew Eira did not mind her match, for Leovold Solherre himself treated her better than others.

"Why do you look so glum, cousin?" Grey called from below, and Melysa lifted her head to peer up at her niece.

Eira's shoulders drooped. "I slept poorly last night and by the gods it is wearing on me now. I thought to postpone the dinner tonight..." But she would not. Eira would have planned and organised so much for this small dinner, she would see it as a waste of her time if she were to not go ahead with plans.

"Then have yourself an early night, Eira."

She frowned, "You should too." She turned and disappeared, but seconds later the sound of her heels clicking against the stone steps could be heard, and another two before she could be seen descending the stairs. "I need you to accompany me to the Market."

Grey nodded, knew she meant another location. It had something to do with her brother.

"Now, shall we wait in the receiving room for Imogen's arrival?"