Avery's Response

Ahsch's mind spun, and he was grateful that Kirasiel hadn't tried to keep him much longer - having said her piece, she accepted the dinner invitation with saccharine sweetness and then dismissed the hrafthi. He stormed down the hallways of R'sath, thinking over what the royal bitch had said, with Dorin struggling to keep pace.

Avery had left Daydreamweave the moment after Kirasiel had mentioned the poisoned tea, and Mahat informed him the moment he'd left Lady Celes' office that his wife had all but ran from the room the group was in. An act that suggested guilt. Mahat's concern and the worried pondering of his sister set Ahsch's thoughts in a similar direction. Avery could be a little vicious, it was true - he'd watched her humiliate a royal who had insulted her prior to the wedding in an extremely one-sided duel - and he knew she had killed before. While poison wasn't really her style, it was a tool of nobles and royals, so it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Plus, Avery was a woman, and wouldn't be her father's heir...

Except she was, he remembered as the lift descended. In the weeks leading up to the wedding, the hrafthi had spent quite a bit of time talking to Michlas, learning more about his betrothed from an outside source. And he recalled that Pavil had named Avery his heir shortly before his marriage to Fauna - hence 'Lord Avery Odestag.' So what possible motive would she have had to **** her brother? By all accounts, she and Miri had been close, thick as thieves. And Ahsch vividly remembered how she had been with his sisters, especially little Sola and Luna.

He considered it more, noticing all the problems with the idea of Avery murdering her brother. She was direct - brash, even; poison was so ridiculously not her style. Sure, she was fully capable of being harsh or even aggressive, but every time he'd seen or heard of it, that behavior was always provoked. And she had been ten when Miri died! The idea of a ten-year-old obtaining poison and giving it to her brother was borderline insane. Where would she have even known to look for such a thing?

When the lift reached the floor of the Odestag suites, Ahsch strode there at a brisk, but much more sedate pace. Mahat and Ariin were calm, the former having passed on their Master's thoughts on the subject. Once he had reached his new home, Ahsch went to the living room the girls were in, glancing around vainly for his wife. Mahat simply pointed down a hall, and he flashed her a small smile before going to find Avery.

After a minute of searching, he found her in a room he'd only seen once before, on a tour of the suites - a training hall, stocked with a variety of practice weapons and 'staffed' by a dozen simple automatons, which resembled Butler in much the way that a pug resembled a German Shepherd: they were both dogs and that was about it.

Ahsch slipped into the room and watch silently as his wife thoroughly decimated the constructs. Her rapier moved faster than even his enhanced vision could follow, and spikes of fire burst from her fingers, knocking the automata to the ground with their fury. The hrafthi was actually a little surprised none of them were being broken despite the **** they were being put through.

Avery was... angry. Enraged. Her face was twisted into a mask of hatred, teeth barred, eyes glaring at everything in front of her like she wanted to **** it. Her tail lashed in sharp, jerky motions. Yet despite it all, she was quiet, the fire forming on her fingers, the slash and thrust of her blade, and the snap of her clothes the only sounds she made amid the clatter of the constructs she faced.

Looking at her, Ahsch observed her emotions. The anger and hatred were hardly surprising. And the guilt was... either way, if she had given Miri that tea, not knowing what was in it, Ahsch could only imagine how that would affect her. But what _was _unexpected was the fear. Fear that rose when she paused, looked around, and saw her husband watching.

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment, the royal woman breathing heavily, but not panting, nor sweating much, in spite of her exertions. Eventually, the anger flared. "If you have something to say, then say it."

Ahsch glanced at her rapier in her hand, then met her glare and calmly walked over to his wife. Standing only a few feet away, he finally asked, "Did you intentionally kill him?"

Her jaw clenched, and she looked away, gaze downward. After a moment, she looked back up. "I always hated orange drop tea," she said. "He loved it. And the sweetness masked the poison perfectly. I took a sip, didn't like it, and gave it to him. I got sick that night. He was dead a minute later." She took a deep breath. "I swore to myself I would kill those responsible for his ****."

The determination, resolve, and pain that Ahsch saw in her was more than enough to convince him. He nodded, then carefully closed the distance, leaned down, and kissed her forehead. "When you're done venting on the poor constructs, we have a dinner meeting to plan with the royal cunt herself." He smirked. "Maybe we can repay her for her very rude implications."

Avery blinked at him, confusion crossing her expression. But she nodded, and Ahsch took his leave, finding Butler waiting outside the training hall, a towel draped over one arm. The automata gave a slight bow. "Lord Ahsch."

The hrafthi nodded in greeting, then glanced at the towel. "I suspect she'll need some water by the time she's done," he commented, glancing back before the door closed behind him to see his wife already back at taking out her rage on the training dummies.

Butler's eyes glinted with something like amusement. "I suspect she will, M'Lord." The automata didn't move.

Ahsch frowned, but bade the mechanical man farewell and returned to his girls. The two Thralls were seething, casting dark glances in the general direction of Kirasiel's office. "That cunt!" Ariin exclaimed when Ahsch entered the room. "She has to know that it's complete bullshit that Avery murdered her brother!"

"From what Michlas had said, a decent number of other royals believe she did," Ahsch said. "Apparently, Miri's mother keeps insisting that Avery was always a killer." He frowned. "Though, none of it really adds up."

"Which explains why the only royals who believe that shit are usually those who don't like Avery in the first place," Mahat said. "Or those too stupid to think things through."

Ahsch sighed. "Politics are the same no matter what world you're in," he muttered. "Hypocrites and idiots abound, genuine people in short supply."

Ariin glanced around furtively, making sure none of the Odestag servants were around. "You're talking about Earth?"

He nodded with a sigh, then shook his head. "I never liked politics, so it's rather ironic that I'm now, essentially, a politician," he chuckled.

"And have to plan a political dinner," Mahat added, snickering.

Ariin groaned. "You sure you don't have any other - better - ideas? You know, ideas that don't involve us spending more time around that bitch?"

Ahsch sighed. "Even if I didn't feel otherwise responsible for her - which I do - Phashak and Phashim have made it abundantly clear that _something _needs to happen there. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be disappointed if I just... **** her and made her my plaything, but I don't think they're expecting that - Phashak was in my head, after all, she has to know that I wouldn't do that."

"So... your plan is to... try and be friends with her?" Ariin raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"Again: open to ideas."