The sound echoes through the room.
Three Morraks descend, too fast and too sudden, one still holding a human hand between its teeth. They land beside the maid, watching, waiting, their attention fixed on her with the particular patience of things that have learned patience is more frightening than urgency.
Sevrin tilts his head slightly. "She does not wish to work alone."
The creatures hiss.
The maid begins to shake.
"See to it that she is given suitable company."
They take her. Her scream does not last long.
Sevrin does not watch her go. He turns instead to the dressmaker, who straightens instinctively.
"Your role is more important. At the palace I have a dressmaker for the princess, and another to approve what is made. I do not have that luxury here." A pause. "You will adjust."
"Yes, Majesty."
"I expect a multitude of dresses upon my return."
"Yes, Majesty."
Ivernet reappears at his shoulder. "Your meal has arrived, Majesty."
He nods with approval, his eyes flashing red. The dining room is too large. He notices it immediately, his attention moving across the space and already altering it in his mind.
"When she arrives, this room will be smaller," he says. "More intimate." He does not wait for a response. "See to it."
The Morraks shift. They understand.
The throne room waits beyond, the table already set with careful attention. He takes his seat, looks at what has been laid before him, selects one, and smiles.
The screaming begins.
Hours later he steps back into the open air. His eyes burn, crimson and alive with it. The Morraks have gathered in theirhundreds, wings folding and unfolding, bodies pressing closer, drawn toward him without instruction.
"Until Yorali chooses to be reasonable," he says softly, "I cannot release you." They quiet, listening. "But I do have a task." He pauses. "Do I have any volunteers?"
They surge forward, a mass of movement and sound and need.
"Find her." The world seems to still around the words. "Bring her to me." A slight tilt of his head. "Unharmed." Another pause. “The undead mean to harm her, you must kill any that cross your path.” A pause. “You must protect her, or die trying.” He smiles. “And you must be gentle. She may be with child.”
The creatures shudder with anticipation.
"If she is found, come to me at once," he says. They screech in understanding.
He turns to Ivernet. "See to it that those who scout are the strongest. If they find her but die before I can be notified, then the outcome for all involved would be…disappointing."
"Yes, Majesty," Ivernet says.
He looks around the palace, pleased with its new appearance.
"Yes," he murmurs. "A nursery should be prepared, just in case."
Ivernet inclines her head. "It will be done."
"How are the provinces?" he asks.
