Isodell FitzWarren
The dimly lit lantern emitted a ghostly yellow light in the blackness of the night. Shrouded in shadows a supple cloaked figure moved like some otherworldly apparition, stopping at the edges of the docks.
Isodell sighed heavily. If Typhon Sturmaz simply bade her here to make an attempt on her life she was going to lose what little patience she had for him. The fact that he might succeed in removing her was a laughable matter to her. Many better men had tried before, however Isodell FitzWarren would not be removed so easily.
“Blacktyde.” She whispered calling out to her wolf who was indistinguishable in the black night.
Ruby red eyes glowed like orbs as the wolf slinked up to Isodell's side. A pleasure filled rumble uttered deep from the beasts throat as her Master petted the wolf with a hard hand as the beast preferred.
She prayed to the Maker Hightower would hurry up some, she still had a lot of things she wanted doing and the dark of the night was the best time for certain activities when all slept soundly.
Alas, it would appear she would be waiting sometime still. Isodell's mind drifted back to the events of the day. To begin with she had bristled at the new King's lack luster response to her bountiful gifts. Whelp! She thought, though she acquiesced he probably meant no disrespect - at least no great disrespect - he was just . . . green.
And then the audacity of that Hightower, to call her a hound. Oh aye, he had moved too quickly for her to deliver him his just deserts to such a statement but the night was still young, one more such comment from his fiendish lips then he would get more then a slap from her. The beast!
And he had put on quite a performance too, taking her hand like a gently bred noble man and placing a kiss atop of it. If it had not been at somewhat her expense then she might have actually enjoyed it.
“The rumours of your Beauty and stormy eyes are true and if I was single then I would ask for hand in marriage unluckily my heart and hand are already spoken for.”
He had declared out loud to which she had yanked her hand out of his grip and replied disdainfully.
“How easily sweet words drip from your lips My Lord, some may say a little too easily . . . You can keep your heart and hand to yourself Ser.”
The rest of the day had passed in pleasant entertainment yet the tension in the air was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. However, it would appear they could all play pretend.
There was one other thing that vexed her to no ends at least at the time. That was Hightowers boldness to offer his sisters hands bluntly to the King.
Now, however it seemed utterly absurd, she was certain the King must be laughing right now, though at the time she had to give it to him for keep a straight face. To think the King would take to bride a peasant! Because that's what she was, that is what Typhon Sturmaz was.
And even going so far to say she was pure! As pure as any peasant could be Isodell supposed. So the girl was maiden. Well so was Isodell, though married, luckily Clayton FitzWarren her husband had croaked before she had to perform her wifely duties on their wedding night. Even now the thought of lying under Clayton FitzWarren made her feel sick.
However, that was another matter, one she would not ever have to perform thank the Maker. But yes, if Hightower's sister was still maiden then she must most assuredly be an old spinster, no doubt. For Hightower himself must be middle aged, at least forty or more in years, then his sister must be close to his own age.
Would she even be able to produce issue as Hightower had claimed the King needed an heir, or was it just a trick to leave the King without an heir so Hightower could instate his own child . . . or even himself . . .
Not that Hightower would ever be accepted as King. She had no doubt all the warring fractions of Penumbria would come together to remove him from the Throne should the unlikely ever happen . . . Though unlikely it was all food for thought . . . And Isodell liked to look at every angle whether plausible or not . . .
When they had returned, Murdock had slipped her the note and explained what had transpired and what he measures he had already taken in preparations if she so wished to go along with the note.
Of course, she would, her curiosity was much too great . . . maybe it was her weakness but she could not resist a good mystery. Of course, she had kept this information from her dear Uncle, he might have a fit if he found out.
Nay, but she was no fool. Her Knights had scoped the dock area out well in advance, dressed as commoners to not raise suspicion; where she was to met with Typhon Sturmaz and even know they held their positions.
Isodell felt somewhat bad ruining their night. She knew many of them would want to enjoy the delights of Court; the non-stop array of food any time day or night, wenching to their hearts content and so on but they were nothing if not loyal and forbearing.
Blacktyde moved impatiently at her feet. How long had she been waiting?! Typhon Sturmaz would get a good tongue lashing when he finally decided to turn up!