Her blonde head swivels to the side, looking back at me with creased brows, "promise me that this will not result in the princess's death. I do not need that on my hands."
My eyes narrow, and I must take too long to answer because she turns fully around, both arms crossed disapprovingly over her chest. "Don't tell me you've grown attached," I ask, the words dripping with disgust.
"Hardly." She answers quickly, "but that doesn't mean I enjoy playing in innocent's blood."
I wouldn't say she's innocent.The bitter thought rests on my tongue, but I don't risk arguing further, worried that she'll change her mind and I'll lose my window of opportunity. Millicent takes a step forward, and when I follow suit, she turns back around to push me backwards.
"What are you doing?"
She shrugs, "well, you two haven't had the warmest of meetings — she'll be less inclined to let us in if she… sees you."
"I didn't really consider her having a choice,"
She sighs, shaking her head, "honestly, Rorin?"
I give her a sheepish grin and wave for her to knock on the door, while I step off to the side, where I won’t be immediately noticed.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
It takes a few moments before we hear the quiet padding of feet on the other side and then –Creaaakkkkkk!
"Lady Millicent?"
Millie smiles, and I suppress the urge to gag. "Princess."
"It's late…"
"Yes, I'm sorry for that, butweneeded to speak with you."
From this angle, I'm not able to see the fear enter her eyes, but I can hear it when she hesitantly asks,"we?"
Taking that as my cue, I step out from the shadows. The princess shrinks back when she notices me, “no.” She whimpers, her head shaking back and forth.
"Pruella— please."
“He tried to kill me!" She screeches, throwing her hand out towards me.
I feel the weight of my friend's glare, but ignore it. The princess tries to shut the door, and my palm slaps against the wood, forcing it to stay open. “We need to talk.” She sucks in a sharp breath and holds it. “You certainly had plenty to say not too long ago; maybe you’re all talked out. Fine – I’ll talk, you listen.” Pushing past her, I let myself into the room.
Millie clicks the door closed, and Pruella takes up a spot behind her dressing chair, keeping a significant distance between us. "The queen has already made it quite obvious to you about our plans for using you as bait to lure your father and mine behind these walls. It's a… frightening thought."
"It's suicide." She notes.
My fingers scrape against my scalp, "the point is—" I grit, "she's got her mind set. Which means I need you to be as cooperative as possible both before and during."
She pulls her shawl tightly around her shoulders, her stringy auburn hair falling in her face. “What exactly am I expected to do?”
"I need to know what to expect. I can anticipate the military's moves, and I can anticipate my father's behaviors. But, I don't truly know what to expect from your father in a setting that doesn't start and end with a blade."
"And what's in it for me?"
I swallow thickly, the words leaving my lips bitter. "I'll make sure you leave this court with your head still attached to your neck."
She sighs, mulling over my offer.
Finally, she bobs her head in reluctant agreement, and then we spend the next half hour listening to her detailing what makes Baelor tick, but I can't help but feel that half of those answers were superficial, and I left her room feeling still unprepared and dissatisfied.
Millie was quiet as we walked back to her room, waiting until we were outside her door again to turn and ask, "did you mean it?"
