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[Ariana Lenoir]

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Ariana made her way to her private chambers. She undressed and stepped into the heated bath, scents of narcissus filling the room as she lathers the soap. Her eyes look distant and expressionless and her movements are very clinical as she washes her body and hair thoroughly. She grabs a soft towel, drying her skin and hair. As she leisurely dries her long hair, deep in her mind she worked feverishly through the recent events.

Love is nay meant f'me. I was raised a lady o' the court an' love is nay a luxury we are permitted. Have I forgotten all I was raised t'believe? Why do I entertain his idle attentions? I've 'ad men speak o' affections an' enjoyment f'my attentions prior... Why does he give me pause wit' his?

The towel paused in its motions as her mind itself paused, the mental gears grinding to a halt in their contemplation. She stood, emotionless and eyes as vacant and cold as the cloudless sky of a winter day. Motionless the minutes ticked by, before her towel once more resumed the previous gentle rubbing of her hair.

A woman should ne'er marry based on their emotions an' ne'er below their station. There are far more important things to take int'consideration when a woman entertains the proposal o' a man. Here I am with nay a father o' elder brother t'dictate whom will become my husband an' still I do nay allow my heart any quarter. Why should I allow it such quarter when decidin' one's marriage based on emotion is careless?

She tossed the towel on top o' the carved screen an' began brushing her long hair. After she had carefully worked through each tangle, she braided until it reached below her rear. She turned and checked the neatness in her mirror. After she was satisfied, she went to her chest and began pulling out several items she used in her meditations. She placed the bamboo mat on the floor and knelt on the mat and rested her palms on her bare thighs as she began to focus. She was very familiar with rituals and the arts of magic, having practiced most forms at one time or another in her young life. She had honed her skill in mediation and focus to a point that with only minimal effort she could enter into a trance-like state, even under severe duress. Such a skill had its advantages and disadvantages. The disadvantage was obvious to any who had watched. She sat motionless with an almost glassy-eyed appearance. Vulnerable to any attempt on her life, should she even be roused from her state, she would be sluggish and disoriented to truly resist for many minutes. The advantages were as valuable as the disadvantages were detrimental. In this state, she would feel no physical pain that might cause another to writhe in agony. It made physical torture ineffective and was a skill she had honed after her own experience with it many years ago.

As she sat motionless, her mind quietly worked. She pushed away any traces of emotions and looked at her current situation with a cold, logic that very few ever knew lay beneath her pleasant exterior.

My request f'meetings t'General Nottingham 'ave gone unanswered. Given the impendin' battle, it is understandable he has nay answered my request. General Nottingham's previous request regardin' the Skyfire Prince are nay longer adequate. There has been already one attempt on my life, o' which, we do nay know it's origin. I do nay believe those in Sanctus as t'ey could easily arrest me. Resortin' t'an overdose o' drugs seems very un... virtuous. It might be those t'at I see often near the Sheriff of Britain, but ye would think t'ey would choose a better method rather than one t'at traces back t'their tiff with Moonglow. Perhaps t'at Lenoir vampire, but it would make little sense f'im t'give me a dosage t'at would kill me if'n he wished me t'continue his... game. None o' these choices fit the puzzle.

There is also I suppose the possibility the Cappadocians themselves caused the overdose. Perhaps t'allow them t'save me an' thereby forcing my honor t'grant them a life debt in return. Perhaps t'keep me close out o'the fear it would instill in me 'bout everyone else. It would make sense, but there would 'ave been far less dangerous methods. I strongly dislike the fact t'at my blood 'as seemed t'given the Duchess some control o'er me. The forced questionin' o'er my intentions was most unpleasant an' while I would nay 'ave lied regardless, I could feel the power in the questions. This power is nay... ideal. I 'ave noticed I 'ave nay seen Lord Ronin since the incident which was t'be expected. Even if'n he knew it prior, hearing t'at someone seriously considered assassinatin' 'im an' had the opportunity mus' 'ave given 'im some pause. I would 'ave been a blind fool t'nay consider usin' such an opportunity f'my own personal advantage. He would... or is... or was... usin' me f'his.

Then there is the matter of Cyrus. I 'ave truly earned 'is trust. I 'ave seen a few good kings, but he 'as the potential t'be one o' the great kings the legends speak o' if gentle prodded in the right direction an' given the encouragement... an' opportunity t'take the role. Aye, opportunity. The one called Malic, his position threatens t'hinder this young Prince. Although I 'ave nay invested interest in aidin' Cyrus, I feel compelled t'interfere. He is a young man, but I donnae' believe his attentions 'ave fixated on women as he is consumed by his studies. It is difficult t'decipher 'is intentions at times.

I mus' nay forget what is in my best interests. I am the captain o' my soul.

She slowly roused from the meditation, her eyes slowly becoming more focused. She then closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath before softly reciting the poem she had learned from her father a long time ago.

"Out o' the night t'at covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole t'pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
F'my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch o' circumstance
I have nay winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings o' chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place o' wrath an' tears
Looms but the horror o' the shade,
And yet the menace o' the years
Finds, an' shall find me, unafraid.

It matters nay how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master o my fate;
I am the captain o my soul."
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