The Maid Did It

WARNING: Contains references to adult situations and naked people.

The Maid Did It
Summary: WARNING: Contains references to a naked man. Tyrel has a frustrating evening with one of the maids.
OOC Date: December
Related: None
Tyrel Ciarrah 
Tyrel and Ciarrah's Room
Tyrel and Ciarrah's Room
Inouv, 228

Tyrel is stripping of his arms and armor revealing that it was not just his equipment that took a beating. Great bruises cover Tyrel's legs and the right side of his torso. The edges of his plate obviously made most of the bruises but they are patterned in an unusual way, not at all the sort he usually sports from practice. "Have you guessed the nature of the stones yet, my princess?" He inquires as he throws the sodden mess of his leathers to the side. The maids are still moving through the rooms but the Crown Prince seems to pay them little mind. His eyes drift low half obscuring the soft blue of his gaze before he shakes his head and returns his gaze to Ciarrah. The maids keep their eyes low. While they have come across the prince nude before in the course of their duties it is extraordinarily rare for him to be so blatant about it normally preferring a curtain between them at least.

Ciarrah still stands at the stones, confused and curious. After running her finger over the difference circles, feeling the cool surface, she looks back to her husband as he strips off his armor. When he is not looking at her, she openly watches him, a hand drifting to her chest, toying with the necklace there. Only when he looks back at her does she look towards the maids as the bath is being prepared. "They confuse me, My Prince. I do not understand them."

Tyrel smiles, "Ah, good…I am not so transparent to you as I feared. I do wish to be able to surprise you from time to time and when you called for a bath I thought you might be pulling my thoughts from my lips before I could speak them." He moves further into their room and there is the sound of a drawer opening and closing. He returns scant second later and carrying a piece of the chalk he uses to write on his slate maps. He moves to stand beside her. "A moment while I prepare it further to see if it aids in understanding." He draws a break in the largest circle, then across from the break he draws a bump on the inside of the circle. In the center he draws what could be a dog or bear with its legs spread out. At the top he draws what could be a couch and on the south side a square. He moves then to the second circle, which is slightly smaller and draws on it a series of squares with a line coming off of each corner. The next smaller circle gets a square drawn in the middle and rectangles drawn to the north and south sides. The smallest circle is left alone. He leans back when he is done surveying his work. "This may be more difficult for you than I had imagined." He says smiling then leaning over to kiss her cheek, "But indulge me and try, remember that I am your husband and I wish you happy when thinking on what it could be."

Tyrel seems to startle, "Ah, wait." He takes her hand and places the chalk into it. "There, it would not be your present if you were not the one with the chalk."

Ciarrah blushes, turning from the stones to look directly at him again, her eyes moving over his bruises, flinching at what it was he must have endured to earn such large hurt over his body. "I had thought you would be cold, tired and… bruised and would enjoy a bath to warm up. When he draws the chalk, blue eyes follow his actions, the way his hands move with the chalk, the lines drawn. It still confuses her and it bothers her that she cannot understand what it is he is trying to do, to show her. The lines, she looks again, circles, rectangles, a flattened dog? She truly wants to understand, but there is only blankness. Only when he mentions to wait and offers her the chalk, does she look back at him. "You are my husband and ytou wish me to be happy, but I am happy as long as I can find a smile within you for me each time our paths cross. All I have asked for was space of our own away from the Castle."

Tyrel looks over the stones, "It is a good thing that I was not born to be an artist or engineer, even guessing correctly you still do not see the truth of the matter." He considers for a moment then runs his hand across the stones smudging out the chalk leaving only the engraved circles. "Be my artist then, for a time, and draw here how you would wish the main room of our retreat organized. There will need to be a door, a fireplace, and the gods sent a bear-skin to us so that we should know the place was fairly won."

Ciarrah takes a few moments to let that sink in.. "Is that… Oh! A place of our own!" She looks down and watches as he smudges the chalk and realizes what he had been doing. She redraws exactly what he had done, over the old lines he had drawn. "I want it just like you envision it. It's perfect, I just.." Then it dawns on her. "A bear, Tyrel?" Blue eyes lower to the bruises and she forces herself to remember to breathe. "You were attacked by a bear?"

Tyrel waves his hand as if saying he was attacked by a bear is foolish nonsense, then says, "I attacked a bear." He runs his hand over the stone again removing the lines, "This is to be our retreat, I have envisioned the outside and cut the first stones from the foundation." He taps the squares of stone. "You will design the inside and be with me to lay the last stones, though we may visit before it is done." After a moment he realizes there is more explanation needed and clarifies. "The bear called the outcropping home, we could not share it with him so a contest was held and I won." He makes it sound formal, almost ritualistic, and perhaps to him it was.

With the explanation made the stones can be seen as a top down view of each of four floors of a watchtower-like construction. The rings aroud the outside describes a double-walled construction.

Watching him erase it again, Ciarrah studies the stones a bit more in depth. With delight and excitement in her eyes, she uses the chalk to draw a line on one, indicating a door, then further onto the same stone, she draws a rectangle then the flattened bear before it. A single rectangle faces the one she had just drawn. Thoughtfully, she lifts her eyes to meet his again. "I would love to help you." She places the chalk down and lifts a hand to touch his face, if he allows her to. "You fought for our place together and you won.." taking it as he seems to. "Thank you.."

Tyrel nods, his eyes half-lidding again as she touches his face, "It was my honor, to please you." He says then his eyes open again fully. "I've not heard the maids pass in some time, my wife, the bath must be ready or else I am so fearsome withouth my clothes I have scared them all away."

Ciarrah bites her lip and allow her gaze to roam down his body, a blush rising in her cheeks. "I asked them to make their visits short when you were undressing." She lifts her chin, almost challenging him to deny that request, but she smiles, lightening the moment as she lowers her hand. "The bath is ready and we are alone, you and I and our family. Our sons are well, but they are eager to make an appearance."

Tyrel sets his hand on Ciarrah's belly, "They will come in their time, my princess." He smiles, "It is good to be home with you." He does not mention her request but he does place his hand on her back and lean in close to her from the side so that her belly does not impeded him. "I do however think your lip did very little to deserve such punishment as your biting delivers." He then kisses her and with a gentle suckle pulls her lip between his teeth and nips it gently with his teeth before slowly releasing her from the kiss and his hold, "It is difficult to punish you for punishing yourself but I hope you feel thoroughly discouraged from biting your lip yourself while I am here."

Feeling the more familiar touch of his hand over their sons, Ciarrah cannot help but to smile. "As their father before then does." A smile playing over those same lip he chastises her for biting. As his lips find hers she tips her head back, giving herself to him to do as he wishes, the tugging of her own lips by his brings a soft feminine sound and when he breaks it, she blink open her eyes, watching him with dazzling intensity. "As long as you are here to do it, My Prince, I will no longer feel the need to do so."

Tyrel smiles then steps away from her moving towards the bath, "I'm pleased you agree, have a care should you find yourself biting your tongue, the same instruction applies." He moves to enter the tub a slight twitch and opening of his eyes betraying how hot the water feels on his chill skin. He does not flinch though as he lowers himself into the water then lets out a sigh. "Tell me what have you been occupying yourself with while I was away."

Watching him as he moves to the bath, Ciarrah smiles, daring to follow him and place herself beside the tub as he bathes. "My tongue is my own, Prince. I will say as I please." She teases him, or perhaps testing her limits. "While you were gone, I remained here in the suite. There is a rumor of someone sneaking into the castle and with what happened to the Sutherlands, Lady Nimue and your Lady Sister… I remained in my room with the guards on alert and my maids in here with me with one prepared to pretend to be me as I hid, if it came to it."

Tyrel nods, "I had heard the rumor, I go to investigate the truth once rested. The jails are no place for a sombulent mind." He slips low in the water soaking his hair and face before pressing himself back up, "And, my wife, I did not caution you against employing your tongue, I rather enjoy when you do, I cautioned you that should your tongue need to be bitten I should like to be the one to do so."

Ciarrah laughs softly, watching him sink down in the water, but she does not speak until he has lifted his head back up. "I will accompany you to the dungeons when you question the prisoner." Still testing her limits, she smiles sweetly at him, or the smile is because of those final words. "Then I shall surely reserve that privilege for you, My Prince, for it is something I would find most enjoyable."

Tyrel says, "The dungeons are no place for a woman, much less a lady, much less a pregnant one and much less my wife." He takes up a cloth to clear his face, "The questioning of a prisoner is not a pleasant task, his honesty must be ensured and often that honest can only be bought with pain and fear. Those that find themselves in the dungeons are not often honorable men so their word cannot be easily trusted." He runs the cloth over his face again, "Why should you wish to accompany me there?"

Ciarrah had expected the answer, had expected it so much she already knew the response she would give. When he informs her of the unpleasantness of the task, she nods shortly, "I am aware of that, my Prince. I had thought it would not be enjoyable. However, you wonder why I would wish to accompany you there? You coddle me away in my rooms, yet one day I will be Queen. When you go fight your battles, I will be left here to take care of things in your stead. Would your mother not accompany your father to the dungeons? Would she not be there at his side no matter how uncomfortable the situation? Would your father deny her?"

Tyrel considers this for a moment then says, "Yes, he would, and if he were not hear he would expect his voice, his marshal, his master of spies, his jailor, and his watchmen to shelter his wife from the details while providing only the results." He looks her over, "As for sheltering here in the rooms, I have encouraged you on many occassions to seek out Roslin, my mother, and others. I have not denied you trips to the market or such excursions as you should like to take but there are matters a woman and a lady should not be involved in lest she be sullied."

Ciarrah had also been expecting that. It had been worth a try. "Your mother, on the other hand, would not take no for an answer. She does as she wishes and she has not been sullied by anything. She is the Queen and she married you and I herself when your father was gone. She does not shrink from her duties of ruling her Kingdom. Tell me then, what are my duties as Queen to be then, when I am Queen? And now, as wife to you, what are my duties other than sewing, spending time in the gardens and the market and the stables and the battlements? I am not close with your family and I wish not to be forced upon them all of the time. I find them lovely, but we are not close."

Tyrel considers quietly, "My mother would take no for an answer, it is her duty. As are marriages and alliances when my father is not free to consult, as could be the ordering of a garrison to attack or a man to be hung, beheaded or tortured, but I do not expect her to attend a torture or to swing an axe, though it may be politic for her to attend the executions." He sinks in the water again before rising, "Among your duties, Ciarrah, is to grow close with my family, for they are yours now too, and with our people, but you must distance yourself from certain aspects such as the dungeons and the battlefields." He considers for a few moments more, "However, as you are of the opinion that my mother would not be denied I will set you this condition. Go and speak with my mother, if she feels that you should accompany me then I will allow it, if she feels that a lady should not attend such a thing save under the most dire of circumstances then I should like you to accept that advice and use the opportunity to forge closer ties to her."

Tyrel adds, "It is possible that I misjudge my mother, it is difficult to see things that are very close to you, and few things, save you, are closer to me than my mother."

"I have seen your mother take control of things when there was no one else there to control it. I have seen her stand strong even in uncertainty, when your father was ill and you went off to war. She remained behind and she remained strong." Ciarrah studies him a moment, a smile playing over her lips. "It surprises me that you did not have me flogged, actually." The words are softly musing. "When you went off to war and I went too, with the healers. When you discovered me there, I had assumed you would be so angry." He had been and he had almost struck her, but she had proven beneficial as a healer to the troops, except she had gotten cut on her left leg. Little did they know she had been pregnant at that very time. "I am stronger than you imagine me to be, My Prince. I will speak to your mother, though I do not think I am closer to you than she is. She is your mother, you are her son."

Tyrel considers for a time, "Flogging you would ensure that harm was done to you, not ensure that you were prevented from harm. You are my princess and will be my queen, to punish your person is foolish." He rises from the tub and steps out, taking up a towel. "I might as well cut off my hand to punish my fingers." He moves towards the bedroom and lays down upon the bed. "I would spare you this, Ciarrah, but if you feel this will be of benefit to you and the kingdom I will not forbid you from it, but you must first seek wisdom from one who has gone before you."

Ciarrah stands, watching him as he moves from the bed and lays upon the bed with his towel. "I would seek your mother then and speak with her while you rest." Though with him there in the towel, bruised and hurt, she wants nothing more than to lay with him and tend to his every need. Instead, she offers a curtsey. "I will take my maid and my guard and seek wisdom from your mother."

While the Princess is away, one of the maids notices the Prince upon the bed and saunters over, a wicked smile on her face. "Prince," she drawls, "Would you require anything of me?" Giving him a somewhat coquettish look, her lashes fluttering.

Tyrel cracks an eye open and slowly focuses his blue eye on the maid, his eye then roves to the window before returning to her. "Bring me the wine bottle. Third from the…no second from the left, we drank the first. Do not bother with the cup." He raises his hand languidly pointing towards the sideboard. He raises the hand to his hair and pushes the damp mess back before it drops back down to his side.

The maid sidles over to the sideboard and takes the second bottle in hand, walking back over. As she approaches the bed, she looks upon the Prince, an appreciative gleam in her eyes as she sits down on the bed beside him, offering the bottle to him. "Would there be anything else, Your Highness? Anything else at all?" Leaving the meaning clear. Surely it's been a long time since he was able to be with his wife.

Tyrel opens his eye a little further the other lid creeping upwards as well as he lies there, considering the maid, "You are sitting on my bed." He observes before inquiring, "Anything such as?"

Tyrel reaches out slowly and relieves her of the bottle after the inquiry.

"I am," the maid says bravely. "Anything you require, Your Highness. Would you need a massage? Would you need a drink? Special attention?" Green eyes regard him with a willingness and an eagerness rivaled by few. "I am Mila and I am yours to command."

Tyrel reaches across himself to tap the bottle in one hand with the fingernail of another, "I have a drink, Mila." He rouses slightly sitting up to grab several of the pillows and comforts stuffing them behind himself then reclining again. He begins working at the cork of the bottle with his thumbs, "I am a prince of Mobrin, so I always receive special attention." The cork gives a pop as it comes loose. "I am not, however, currently receiving a massage. Though I do not recall such being among your duties." He tilts the bottle back taking several swallows before lowering it. "Why was I unaware of this?"

"I am off duty for the day. After I drew your bath then I finished for the day. Now I am here because I wanted to ensure you were well and taken care of. I could offer the massage on my own, or I could accompany you from here if you prefer somewhere more… private." Mila reaches out a hand to rest on his towel covered leg, her fingers playing along the muscled thigh.

Tyrel takes up the cork and stuffs it into the bottle before rising from the bed. He leaves the towel behind as he walks over to his dresser, "Mila, how long have you been in the service of my family?" He inquires as he looks through the drawers.

Mila stands when he does, watching him move nude towards the dresser, openly admiring his body. "All of my life, my mother works here as well, in the kitchens."

Tyrel nods, "Eyes up, Mila. It is important you answer this next question honestly. Do you feel you are acting in a manner befitting a servant of my house and a woman of my kingdom?" From the drawer he draws out paper, ink, quill, sand, wax and seal. All that would be needed to have a letter sent off. As he asks the question he turns his intention entirely towards the young woman.

Mila forces her gaze to meet his, standing straighter, her hands behind her back. Of course she can still see his full nudity though her eyes are on his, she says nothing about it. "No, Your Highness. I am not."

Tyrel nods picking up the papers and accessories and carrying them over to his desk, "Would you care to explain why you are behaving in a way that is not fitting for a member of my staff and my kingdom?" He sits down on the chair at the desk, a slight tension along his shoulders and sides the only indication that the chair was frigid. He places the paper in front of himself and pulls the stopper for the ink.

"I.. only thought to ease your… unease, Your Highness. You have… bruises." Able to see them Mila motions towards them. "And I thought maybe you needed attention."

Tyrel looks up from the papers he is laying out, "You were thinking only of my interests, with no thought of benefit to yourself?"

Mila lifts her brows in confusion, but then smiles after. "I had thought it would be a mutual pleasure, Your Highness. It's not unknown to happen. I only wished to offer."

Tyrel says, "A number of things have been known to happen that should not happen, Mila." He points towards the corner of the room. "Go and stand in the corner of the room, when my wife returns you will explain to her what you offered and what you intended." He sets the quill into the ink and begins writing on the paper.

Mila looks to the Prince. "I beg of you, please. Do not make me stay. It will never happen again. May I please go, I apologize. Please have mercy, Your Highness."

Tyrel looks over at Mila, "Give a moment of consideration to what would happen if I came upon one of my servants propositioning my wife, then consider what I am doing to you, then consider whether I am being cruel to you or already showing you exceptional mercy."

"I have considered, and yes you are being merciful, but I wish not lose my position here, Your Highness. I swear that I would not do this again. I give you my word. Please, my mother will be so ashamed of me." Mila pleads. "Please, Your Highness."

Tyrel rises from the desk leaving two pieces of paper on it, "You are begging the wrong person, Mila. Your fate lies with my wife, your transgression was against her so I will allow her to decide what is to be done." He walks back to the bed and seats himself upon it then reaches for his bottle of wine. "While we wait for her, I am a touch curious, what put a notion such as this into your head?"

Tyrel may look entirely relaxed but he does realize the young woman is in a bad place and he keeps aware of her position and where his nearest weapons are.

Mila remains in the corner, watching the Prince with a frightened expression, crossing her arms over herself in a protective gesture. "I don't have to answer you, you just said. I have to answer to her."

Tyrel looks at Mila, "I said that she would decide your fate, Mila. I am still your prince, and one that is now rather frustrated and cranky so I suggest you do all within your power to make me think you are obedient, loyal and honest."

Mila doesn't look at him this time, a defeated look to her. "I have seen it done before, to other visitors from other lands. They would take upon the offer of a maid. I only wanted to be the one for you because I grew up here in the castle, as one of the servants and you have never even really seen me. I thought I could make you see me as I have always seen you."

Tyrel considers this for a short while, taking drinks of his wine, "And if you grew heavy with child, what then?"

"Then I would live with my Aunt in the city. I could not stay here in the Castle." Mila still looks downcast, expecting the worst when the Princess arrives.

Tyrel raises his hand to his hair working to establish a part that may or may not exist. He sets the bottle down for again to employ both hands. "That does not seem a particularly prudent plan, Mila." He yawns and stretches. "Though I should like to correct you, I was aware of you as I am aware of all those who serve my family, especially those within the castle." He looks over at her, "Is this how you wished me to see you? A girl who without thought of consequence would slip into my bed?"

Mila shakes her head, ashamed. "Please forgive me, Your Highness. I will accept my punishment. I did think about the consequence, and no one would ever know if I were to have your child from a time in the bed with you. I would never tell, and you could still come by and see me. I did not plan on there being a child, but there were plans in place in case it happened. I wished only to be with you, Your Highness. To.. please you. To see that smile you so rarely wear."

Tyrel says, "Avoid speaking in absolutes, Mila, they rarely are what you mean them to be." The correction is almost rote as the girl claims she would never do something. "I suggest you give some thought to how you will explain this to my wife over the next few minutes or hours. I do not know how long she will be gone for but I think what time you have would be well invested in the thought." He then falls silent, his gaze adopting the faraway and set look learned by many years standing watch and his time as a squire. He sips his wine from time to time but otherwise goes still waiting for Ciarrah to return and fighting the exhaustion. It has been a long, long pair of days since he woke the day before. The ride through the snow was tiring, the fight with the bear bruised and battered him but still he rose to strike the wedge to crack free the first of the stones, then the ride back, and now this.

Mila does not have time to think or time to respond. Ciarrah arrives about that time and when she does, she steps through to her room she shares with her husband. A smile is in her eyes, a look if contented happiness that seems to spread when she notices the state of undress of her husband. "My Prince," she says on a sudden exhalation of breath. Only then does she notice the maid in the corner of the same room her nude husband is in. She stops, dead still, looking between them. "Prince Tyrel?" Questions in her eyes.

Tyrel nods, "I am both." He answers, "I should like to know what recommendation was given by the queen, then we have another matter to discuss." He picks up the bottle of wine and takes another sip. "I apologize in advance if I am somewhat terse, my princess, this evening has gone on longer than I should have liked it to."

"Your mother told me that yes, she would, if she wished it, be involved in any and all of her Husbands business within the Kingdom." Ciarrah tells him quite honestly. And I got to meet your sister, the newest Princess." Once more, Ciarrah looks between the two. "I do hope I am interrupting something." A careful play on words. "Otherwise, this would be inexplicable. Why do you have a maid in here, Prince Tyrel?"

Tyrel considers for a few moments, "I occassionally find the humor of the gods lacking." He comments then gestures towards the maid. "As you have an interest in such things it appears the gods have sent you a prisoner to practice upon. Please direct your curiousity regarding this inexplicable situation to the maid."

Taking a card from her husbands deck, Ciarrah continues ignoring the maid. "I did not ask the maid, I want the truth not the word of a regular commoner who would sacrifice her values for a chance to say she romped with the Crown Prince. I asked you. Why do you have a maid here and why are you remaining on display for her?"

Tyrel says, "You must hear both sides of a story when inquiring of a prisoner and it is considered polite to question the commoner first so that the noble can correct any fallicies. I remain on display because dressing requires several moments where movement becomes awkward and I did not wish to be put in a situation where she was tempted to flee." He points Ciarrah towards the maid, "That is your prisoner, deal with her."

Tyrel says, "You will also, face situations which seem extraordinarily odd, such as this one, and must obtain the truth of the matter in spite of it."

There is anger in her eyes as Ciarrah looks at her husband and her jaw tightens considerably. "Yes, My Prince." She tells him with a sweetness that feels all together false. "Tell me, Mila," she knows the maid's name by now. Serah talks. "Why are you here with my husband?"

Mila immediately looks at the Princess, then the Prince, debating on what to say. "He wouldn't allow me to leave."

Tyrel nods, "That is quite true, I would not allow her to leave." He rises and moves across the room and draws a pair of the loose pants he favors from the drawers and steps into them. "You appear quite angry with me, Ciarrah, I can understand your frustration but I would ask for your trust in this matter. I have trusted you to seek advice and now that you have it am admitting my error and inviting you to accompany me to the cells if you still wish to. Before that we just deal with this more domestic matter, and I would prefer you to handle the matter directly so I might judge your skills."

"You understand nothing, Tyrel," Ciarrah almost snaps, but catches herself just in time. "I would not have you chastise me for something I have not done in front of a maid who wants to bed my husband. Oh yes, I already knew. Serah tells me things, she is loyal to me, having come with me from Aberdeen and she is a lady. Serah Temple. Temple is a vassal house of Aberdeen, and I know as a Lady, she knows how to act. Much unlike Mila here."

Turning her attention to the now quiet maid, she considers a long moment. "I would have you flogged first, and as much as I would like to have you serve as a maid if only to punish you, I do not trust you any longer. Your services are no longer required and as you attempted to seduce the crown for your own personal gain, you will not be able to work in this city again. You are to leave Darfield and Stormvale, and Mobrin, to never return."

Tyrel moves over to the table selects one of the three letters and hands it to Ciarrah, it is written out with instructions that the girl should be flogged and dismissed. It does not include the sentence of banishment that Ciarrah had outlined, "I did not anticipate that last, Ciarrah, nor did I wish to chastise you, only gauge your stomach for such things. Are you done with your questioning of her and satisfied that you have the truth of the matter?"

Mila looks as if she is about to plead until she catches the look on both of the Royals. She just looks miserable.

Ciarrah accepts the letter from her husband, a look of surprise. "I was predictable?" But this time she smiles as she asks it and she cannot help it… nor does she try to stop herself, she wraps her arms around her husband and kisses him ever so briefly, perhaps icing on the top, that she has what the maid could not. Petty? Perhaps. But it was an all female reaction. "Yes, My Prince. I am finished and I have the truth of the matter."

Tyrel nods, "I am pleased with your decision, though I will ask you to grant me a favor. I do not like the convenient timing of this girl's offense. It strikes me as contrived and I do not wish to lose a servant who has been loyal to my house in all other ways save this temptation which may have been set before her by the gods to aid me in learning more of you." He gestures towards Mila, "Her mother works in the kitchens, if you have heard no word against her other than this then I would ask that she be flogged and sent to work as a scullery, sparing her family the shame of it."

For a woman who tried to seduce her husband, Ciarrah only wants to push her off the battlements herself, however, temper would do no good to anyone here. Never until now had she guessed how possessive she would be towards her husband. Taking a few deep breaths, she finally manages the calm to smile at her husband with a serene look. "Of course, My Prince. I trust your judgment and if you think that is best then surely she will learn her lesson." Looking back at the maid, there is a look upon her features that hold a warning, from one woman to another. Mine, back off.

Tyrel looks to Ciarrah for a few moments weighing her words it seems. "We will have her beaten then, and removed to the scullery and if word is heard of her, or she continues to displease she will be removed entirely from our kingdom. Now, I wish to rest. There are two other papers on the table, one orders her flogged and sent to the scullery, the other makes her yours entirely. You were only predictable in that I only foresaw three options, send her off with the judgement of your choosing. You trust my judgment and I trust yours. I put her fate in your hands and have made my concern that she was a pawn of a higher need known. I believe you will do what is right." He moves towards the bed and lays down, "If you choose to make her yours do warn me else I might startle come the morning."

Ciarrah walks to the door and calls her guard inside, handing him the envelope that contains the orders to have the maid flogged then sent to the scullery. "Deal with her." He collects the maid and leaves, even as Ciarrah dismisses her Serah, leaving her and her husband completely alone. Once they are, she walks to the bed and draws off her dress, not even bothering with a dressing gown. She pulls back the blankets and climbs into the bed with great difficulty, pulling the blankets over her rounded self and laying back onto her pillow.

"I spoke to your mother and she did tell me what I told you. However, I would never wish to endanger our son, so my visits to the dungeons will have to wait until after the birth." That concession is given and then she turns her head and smiles at him. "Is that more agreeable?"

Tyrel nods, "It is, though I will bring you full report of what is discovered so we might discuss it before a decision is made. Is that more agreeable?"

Ciarrah smiles to herself, hearing his counter offer. "More than agreeable, my Prince.." And then he turns and touches her and she inhales quickly.. "Oh yes, My Prince… so very agreeable."

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