A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Of course, listening to that, Oliver thought that such an interpretation wasn't true at all. It was not a lack of fear that drove him to respond to confrontation so strongly – it was the irritation that came with it. His whole body urged to fight with the power that he had accumulated, and it could hardly run from those moments now.

The lack of control that he had experienced in weeks past seemed to be waning, but the drive to dominate was still there, like a cold stake through the heart.

"My, Verdant," Asabel said, "you make him sound a wild animal."

"If he is, then he would be the strongest of beasts," Verdant said.

"My father would say that the dragon is the strongest of beasts," Asabel said thoughtfully. "Could it be that Oliver is secretly a Pendragon?"

"My Lady!" Lancelot said incredulously.

"A jest, Lancelot. Please. I would have this tension dissipate. If you boys insist so strongly on wrestling with each other, would you not allow me to join in?" Asabel said.

"It wasn't my intention to wrestle with him…" Lancelot said. "I merely… Ah, never mind. Do forgive me, my Lady."

She offered him a gentle nod. "I do not intend to fight with you either, Lancelot," she said gently. "I know that when you press, you do so on my behalf. But this evening I would like to get to know our guests. I wouldn't want to scare Oliver away from our company. There are too many who fear the royal title already."

Lancelot seemed to have a quick remark to respond with to that, but he held his tongue for a second, and softened his words. "They do have good reason for that, my Lady. As do you."

"I know, I know, but allow me a little leeway just this once, would you? It is not always that we find ourselves at the centre of such intrigue," she said, twinkling her eyes mischievously as she smiled at Oliver. His heart sank, seeing that look. Here it comes, he thought.

"So, I'm going to assume that you didn't get poisoned by any of those terrible monsters we keep locked in the Grand Forest?" She asked.

Verdant tilted his head with a frown. "An odd question, if you would permit me to say so, Your Highness. No, the manner of beasts we dealt with bore no threat of poison. Goblins, Hobgoblins, Blackwolves and the Boulder Crab. Infection, perhaps, given an open wound, but not poison."

"Oh? Did you find yourself wounded, Oliver?" She asked.

Oliver winced. "A little."

She frowned. "You did tend to those wounds, properly, didn't you Verdant? I'd heard that you've spent considerable time in the hospital. You were well trained there, weren't you?"

"Of course, my competence is far beneath your own, Your Highness, but I am practised enough at dealing with the sorts of injuries that my Lord received. You need not worry on that front," Verdant said.

"Then…" She said, lowering her voice just a smidge. She glanced around her at her retainers, and then leaned in, cupping her hand to her mouth. Oliver sank back into his chair, casting his eyes towards the ceiling. This was it. This was what he had been dreading. A tidal wave of trouble of the most irritating kind. Enjoy exclusive chapters from empire

Well, whatever, better to get it out the way and have it dealt with.

"Oliver?" She asked, returning his eyes to hers. She must have noticed the pain on his face, for she posed him a delicate question. "…Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

He slowly shook his head, hoping against all odds that that would somehow get the message through, that somehow this beautiful woman would have the heart to save his weakness only for her memory. But that was an impossibility.

"Ah…" Asabel said thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes. She seemed to study Verdant, and then Jorah behind him. Whatever she took from her study, it was hard to tell, but after a moment, she released a long pent-up breath, and her shoulders sagged in a sigh. "Forgive me, I was merely prying for gossip. It was unbecoming of me," she dipped her head towards them. Lancelot watched on, horrified.

"But my Lady—" He began.

"Lancelot," she said firmly. "I think, before it grows too late, that I wish to show Oliver the view from the balcony up here."

"The balcony?" He repeated, glancing towards it. "I… understand," he said cautiously.

Oliver didn't. Whatever had passed between them was not something that he was privy to. Nor was it something that Verdant and Jorah seemed to pick up on. Jorah remained stiff standing, as he watched the proceedings with an indirect and cautious gaze, whilst Verdant twirled the ring on his finger, as he studied the room about them.

"Would you join me on the balcony, Oliver?" Asabel asked, with just the smallest hint of a smile. It seemed to be at once a questioning look, as well as an attempt at a friendly one.

"You will be needing your coat, Your Highness," Mary said, returning with a red cloak, with a fur collar, offering it to her lady with an outstretched arm.

"Thank you," Asabel said. She'd worn a rather thin dress for the occasion – a modest dress, that didn't reveal much skin, of gold and white, complimenting her hair. It was long enough that it would keep her warm inside – these rooms were warm enough anyway, with the fires burning in the hearth – but outside it would be a rather pitiful defence.

She stood up, and allowed Mary to put it over her shoulders, and fasten it with a clasp under her neck. If there were any doubts about her royal status, that cloak did much to eradicate them. It was only once she was wearing it that Oliver saw the golden dragon emblazoned in the red velvet. A finer cloak would be hard to imagine.

"Did you not bring a coat, Oliver?" She asked politely. Oliver looked down on his jacket. Barring the coat that Blackthorn had commissioned for him, it was the warmest item he had for such an occasion. He'd boat coats and furs for his trips into the forests, but those were made of far cheaper material – mere silvers, when for the finer things he'd have had to give over more golds.