AT THE SOFT CLICK of the shutting doors following Lance's exit, I sigh on the bed. Yennara has this look in her eyes as she stares at me. A look I've never seen before. I think perhaps, a look new to her too. It is a few seconds before the girl servant she requested for pops in to clean the remnant blood drying on every conceivable surface of my bedroom. Real, human blood; the metallic stench so potent I can taste it on my tongue.
Yennara looks at me like I've visibly hurt her. I can tell her entire body is strung tight as she stiffly pads across the room for the bed. She stops at the left corner, just by the foot of it, and her fingers curl around the post's sculpted wood. She keeps staring, regarding me with an emotion she consciously battles with. It's as if she knows it's showing but tries to keep it back. I see through the conely features of her face like spring water creeping out aquifers deep in the Woods.
Is she jealous right now?