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A/N: There's been quite a few upheavals in Cirig and Blackthorn's relationship since this part and the last. Suffice it to say, Cirig hates Blackthorn and Blackthorn hates Cirig.
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'Even now, as Blackthorn, ye've got a mean streak a mile-wide.'
The thrall worried at that statement, sinking mental teeth into it to find the blood-meaning behind it. Master Cirig had never known her as other than Blackthorn. None of the Delegation had, for she had been thralled to His Grace Lord Venadin over three hundred years ago. Before that, she had been an Eriu lady and of no interest to any not of the Eriu clan.
Yet her birthname lay on everyone's tongue these days.
And that insane firbolg who claimed to be her thrall....!
She clasped her hands tightly, struggling to bring her breathing under control. Master Cirig seemed to believe him. Yet Master Cirig mocked her so much of late. He had turned cruel and distrusted her. He drove her away, then reacted with anger when she punished him in the most direct way she had. Lady Lasaiena had warned- A thought came to her then, and she smiled chillingly. Had he forgotten Lady Lasaiena's warning? Had he forgotten that distance weakened the bond?
Perhaps he had. Perhaps that was why he had even dared to suggest that he would give her bond to another. He had forgotten that she promised to kill him.
She allowed her face to slip back into the smooth blandness so typical of a thrall. Her eyes still whirled, though, darker and darker. They never seemed to still; His Grace Lord Venadin had believed it to be a side-effect of the thrall-bond. They revealed her mental state to any who knew to look.
Wasn't it wonderful that all who did know were quite dead?
The End