It hadn’t taken long at all. At first, she had merely noticed him, making sure he noticed her noticing him. Then it was a simple matter of eye contact, looking at him and then quickly averting her gaze, as if in embarrassment, whenever he noticed her attention. After that, whenever their eyes met, she had started hesitating before she looked away, allowing a fleeting but meaningful contact. To this, she gradually added subtle variations. A nervous swallow whenever their eyes met, a moistening of the lips, a few deep breaths to draw his attention to her bosom, then lingering sidelong glances, and finally, when she was sure no one else would notice, smoldering stares.
He started to find excuses to run into her around the castle and on the grounds. She studied his routine and made sure there were opportunities for them to encounter one another, as if by coincidence. When they spoke, it was with formal politeness, but he was always very attentive and solicitous. He started to take extra care of his appearance. The next step was brief physical contact. She would brush against him, as if by accident, and when they encountered one another in the garden, they would sit and chat for a short while, their thighs or knees or shoulders touching slightly. He had the fervor and impatience of youth, which made things even easier. When he took her hand and brushed it with his lips, lingering just a bit too long, Laera would increase her breathing and open her mouth slightly, gazing at him with a dreamy stare. And when he kissed her for the first time, he probably thought he was being astonishingly bold and reckless.
She made him believe she could not resist him, no matter how hard she tried. Her whispered protestations were punctuated by soft moans of encouragement, and soon thereafter, she “surrendered” to him, as if no longer able to hold her feelings in check. Then, as with Derwyn, she slowly began to tighten the noose.
By the time the emperor’s marriage was celebrated in Anuire, she had Rodric eating out of her hand. She was conducting a torrid affair right under her husband’s very nose, and Derwyn did not suspect a thing. However, with Rodric, she did not make the same mistake she made with Aedan. She had learned that lesson long ago. She curbed her appetite and always left him wanting more, carefully controlling the frequency of their assignations, allowing his hunger for her to grow.
She complained of Derwyn’s inattentiveness and told Rodric her husband only pretended to love her, that when they were alone together, he was brusque and even cruel on occasion. While Rodric held her in his arms, she speculated wistfully on what it would be like if they could run away together, adding that of course that would be impossible because it would ruin both their lives. Yet, if only she were free….
One more phase of her plan fell into place quite by accident, thanks to Rodric. Knowing the “miserable isolation of her existence,” he took it upon himself to provide her regular reports of the goings-on in the town and its vicinity. He was a natural gossip, and most of his stories she found interminably boring, but one in particular piqued her interest.
A young teenaged girl in town, a thief and prostitute, had been arrested for stabbing a merchant. He had survived, but as he was an influential member of the community, the girl had been sentenced to hang. Privately, Laera thought it a fitting punishment. The lower classes had to be reminded of their place every now and then to keep them in line and properly respectful. But when she went to Derwyn, claiming to have heard about the incident from one of her ladies-in-waiting, she pleaded for him to intercede and save the poor girl’s life. Surely, she said, this girl had been trapped in a life of hopeless misery, and only desperation had driven her to do the deed. She at least deserved a second chance. Laera offered to take the girl into her service, saying she was sure she could reach past the bitterness and the hardships she had suffered. And, she added, it would be a wonderful opportunity for Derwyn to display compassion and demonstrate to the people of Boeruine that he was merciful and truly cared about their welfare.
Derwyn had some reservations, but she wore him down, and soon the girl was brought from the tollhouse in the town to Seaharrow. She was proud and haughty, but not so foolish that she did not realize she owed her life to Laera. Her name was Gella. She was fifteen years old, a peasant through and through, who had been orphaned at an early age and had learned to survive by her wits. There was a spark of stubborn wilfulness in her gaze, and Laera saw in her a kindred soul that could be molded to her purposes.
She told her other ladies she wished to be left alone with Gella, and when they had left, marveling at the compassion of the duchess to take a fallen girl under her wing, she confronted Gella severely.
“Well, let’s have a look at you,” she said, circling around her as if taking her full measure. “Hmmm. A bath and some clean clothes and you might even be presentable.”
Suddenly, she reached out quickly and snipped off a lock of Gella’s hair. The girl brought her hand up to the spot, startled, but said nothing as Laera came around in front of her, holding the lock of dirty, oily dark hair in her hand. “It could do with a trimming,” she said, surreptitiously making a cut in her own palm as she spoke. “Let me see your hands.”
Obediently, Gella held them out for her inspection. Laera took her left hand in hers, as if to examine it. “Rough, coarse, and dirty,” she said. “But then, I suppose that’s only to be expected.”
With an abrupt motion, she seized Gella’s wrist and sliced her palm. Gella cried out in alarm and tried to jerk away, but Laera moved with her, maintaining her grip. She dropped the little scissors and slapped the lock of hair onto Gella’s palm, then covered it with her own. No blood oath was necessary; that was only ritual. The actual spell had been prepared in advance, as Callador had done, too.
Gella’s eyes grew wide, and she stopped struggling. “You are a sorceress!” she said.
“What do you know of sorcery?” asked Laera.
“My mother was a witch,” the girl replied. “They killed her for it.”
Laera released her hand and pushed back Gella’s thick, dark hair, revealing a slightly pointed ear. “A half-elf!” she said with surprise. “I never would have guessed. But now I can see it.”
“What do you want with me?” asked Gella.
“I need you to serve me,” Laera replied. “You shall be my personal body servant. I was the one who saved your life. It is now mine to command and do with as I please. Serve me well and faithfully, and you shall be well taken care of and rewarded. Play me false, and you shall suffer torments such as you cannot imagine, so that you will plead with me to take your life. Do you understand?”
Gella moistened her lips nervously. “I do, Lady.”
“Very good,” said Laera. “Then understand this, also. No one knows that I possess knowledge of sorcery save you. Not even my husband suspects. You seem to know something of the mystic arts, so perhaps you realize you are now bound to me for as long as both of us shall live.” She took Gella’s blood-soaked lock of hair and placed it in a small gold locket like the one containing Derwyn’s, closed it, then slipped the chain around her neck. “You belong to me now. And by this token of your lock of hair, I can reach out for you, no matter where you go. Remember that.”
“You want me to do something terrible,” said Gella. “That is why you had me brought here. You have no need of a body servant. You require a criminal.”
“The only law you need to fear is mine,” said Laera. “And if you do precisely as I say, you will not be caught, and I shall make it worth your while.”
“What is it you want me to do?”
“Learn, for starters. I will have you instructed in how to be a proper servant. And when the emperor arrives at Seaharrow for Summer Court, I shall have you assigned to serve the new empress.” She went over to her jewelry box and opened a hidden drawer in it, from which she removed a small glass vial stoppered with a cork. “A few drops of this special preparation in her wine each week will prevent her from conceiving a child.” Laera smiled. “It has no taste or odor and dissolves without leaving any residue behind. She will never know that she is drinking it.”