The guards stationed outside the doorway of Verial’s chambers could have died this very evening and would do so with smiles upon their lips. Sahar’s presence alone was enough to bring warmth to otherwise harden faces, but her easy gentle manner, her sweet tone of voice and melodious laugh coupled with the exotic beauty she possessed was an intoxicating gift sent from the gods above to men whose sole purpose in life was to serve and protect. Having spent nearly two hours in the desert woman’s company was a blessing from above, even if only simple conversation was the only factor employed.

The mage was chatting away amiably with all four Bariston men, offering sincere inquiries regarding their personal lives, their hopes and dreams, their likes and dislikes. Oftentimes men such as these were viewed as nothing more than tools, useful and valuable tools, but tools nonetheless. Rarely did any take personal interest in such men, save for the orders that were given to them, questions regarding their duties. The sheer fact that Sahar actually took an interest in these men as, well men, instead of armed warriors, lightened their hearts and minds, and she did so happily.
Sunlight no longer streamed through the squared stone windows and the temperature slowly began to drop, an indication that sunset had indeed arrived. With a charming smile offered to each, Sahar murmured her apologies, having to take her leave.

All four guards nodded with understanding and stepped aside so that the magae could gently knock once upon the heavy oak door, her voice carrying clearly through the wood as she spoke. “My Lady, I apologize for interrupting, but we have other matters to attend to soon.” Indeed they did, for the Lord Commander Maxim Redmont would soon, if not already, rise from his daytime slumber and arrive as soon as possible to meet with The Lady Victoire and Lord Verial.

Sahar stepped away from the door as it began to open and out stepped her mistress, her grey eyes bright and shining, her cheeks flushed. The healer arched a fine dark brow. Had her Lady been drinking with the Lord Regent, and if so how much was consumed to force such a jovial and serene appearance upon Layla’s features. She almost seemed…happy. Much to Sahar’s surprise, Lady Victoire smiled at the guards, rewarding them with a rare glimpse of her dimples and bid them a good even before linking her arm through Sahar’s as they headed toward Layla’s private chambers. Wisely, the guards who appeared stunned at the sudden change in their Lady’s demeanor, said nothing in comment, nor did Sahar. Such subject matters were best discussed in private.

As was custom, four guards stood alert outside the Lady Victoire’s quarters and nodded to both women, quietly offering greetings as the door was opened to allow them entrance. Neither woman spoke as they entered Layla’s spacious, but ordinary chambers, taking their seats at the rounded table set in a corner of her sitting room. Neera must have been anticipating their arrival, for within moments; she entered the chambers pushing a wheeled cart, and upon it sat a large silver tray containing dinner for two as well as jugs of water and wine. Sahar thanked Neera and dismissed her after the young handmaiden served both women. Surprisingly, Sahar noted her Lady held up a hand when Neera offered her wine, opting for cool refreshing water instead. Honey colored eyes barely contained their mirth as finally the two friends were alone, daintily cutting into thick slabs of beef simmered in its own juices, complemented by roasted carrots and golden potatoes. A mixture of greens and crusty rolls were offered as well.

Sahar watched with fascination as her Lady ate with fierce determination, normally one to pick at her food, barely stopping for breath or sips of water before taking up her fork once more. The desert woman nearly choked on her own food as Layla began sopping up the remains of her plate with her bread, leaving nothing behind but food residue. The blonde haired ruler dabbed at her lips with the linen napkin provided, oblivious to Sahar’s widened gaze until that moment.

“What?”

The desert woman threw back her head and laughed, nearly choking as her hand reached out for her water glass, downing several long gulps. It was a while before she was able to speak, and when she did, could barely contain the amusement from her voice. “You! You, my Lady!” Sahar began chuckling again, slim copper toned fingers plucking at a carrot. “I’ve seen cows grazing in the fields with more table manners than you!” She offered Layla a grin in response to the smaller blonde woman’s narrowed gaze.

“Do not take it as an insult, Layla; it pleases me to see your appetite has returned. Though, I wonder,” Sahar’s grin took on a devilish look then, “What could have caused such an abrupt change in my Lady, hmm?” When she noted Layla’s cheeks turn a bright shade of pink, Sahar continued on teasingly. “Perhaps it was our Lord Verial’s doing somehow? Methinks I should ask him,” she started to rise from her seat, only to have her Lady’s vise-like grip upon her arm.

“NO!”

Laughing harder than before, Sahar calmly sat down once again, carefully prying Layla’s fingers from her forearm. “Easy, my friend. I jest." When Layla calmed once more, Sahar pushed her plate aside and leaned forward, propping elbows upon the table so she might rest her head upon her hands, her expression eager. “Are you going to tell me, or must I pry it out of you?”

A roll of her eyes was first offered by the Lady Victoire even as she slumped in her seat. “Nosy wench,” she muttered, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “If you must know, Lord Verial and I spent our time discussing matters concerning Alastair Bluefield.” The blonde ruler offered nothing more. It was Sahar’s turn to roll her eyes, and she did so in quite dramatic fashion. “Two hours discussing thievery of the City’s treasury caused such a hunger to grow within you, Layla? Or was it the wine?” The healer grinned widely at her Lady. “You reek of it, if you care to know.”

Storm colored eyes widened as the Lady Victoire opened her mouth to protest, cheeks flushing. After a moment, she had a change of heart, her features softening. “No. It wasn’t the wine, or…rather, not only the wine.” Layla’s fingers played with the rim of her glass as she spoke, successfully meeting her companion’s gaze without flinching. “We did speak of Alastair, at first. Talk moved onto a more personal topic, and then...,” Layla paused a beat as Sahar leaned in closer, almond shaped honeyed eyes lit with anticipation. “Yes? Go on, Layla.”

The Lady Layla Victoire took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He kissed me,” she confessed.There was a pregnant silence, both women staring at each other before small squeals of delight erupted, followed by more hushed tones. “Really?” Sahar had known Layla Victoire for a decade now and in that time had never witnessed her Lady to have any encounters with the opposite sex save for military and political purposes. Oftentimes, Sahar felt that despite Layla’s protests of leading an extraordinarily busy lifestyle (which was true), which could not afford her opportunities to pursue relationships (again true), nor was she lacking in companionship (not quite so true), her Lady was a lonely woman, and deserved a chance of some happiness in this life. One should not live to work.

Layla nodded, brushing her fingers against her lips. “Yes, really. It was, unsettling, but rather nice.” A slow burn crept along the blonde woman’s neck and upward to her face. “I liked it, Sahar.” A pause and then,“I like him. I do. He is a good man and will be a fine King. In my heart, I know this.”

Sahar listened quietly, nodding and smiling, hiding her silent concern. The Lady Victoire was not exactly a wealth of knowledge when it came to relationships between men and women, and Sahar might have been the only soul alive to know of her complete and utter lack of experience in this particular department. The desert magae had looked into the heart of Verial Akilara, unbeknownst to him, and did not find it lacking. He was, as far as she could determine, a good man. A man who had his shares of problems and burdens, his own personal demons, but all in all, a decent person, or so she hoped.

“There is nothing wrong with enjoying yourself from time to time, Layla. Letting your hair down, so to speak, and our King isn’t exactly hard on the eyes,” Sahar chuckled. “My advice would be to take things slowly and see where it goes. He is, after all, your consort, so to speak.” Sahar considered having her own private chat with the Protector Regent, though not one to normally interfere with her Lady’s personal affairs. It was a simple matter of protection, and perhaps a warning that her Lady was not one to be trifled with. The desert woman mused over how she would proceed when her thoughts were interrupted by her Lady.

“In any case,” Layla stated, suddenly all business, seeming embarrassed by such conversation topics. “The Lord Commander should be arriving soon. Help me freshen up and change, Sahar, then inform the guards to show the Commander to the Council Chambers. We have much to discuss.”

Sahar, quite amazed really, at how her Lady could go from gushing school girl to iron maiden in the blink of an eye, smiled and nodded. “Of course, my Lady.”As the desert woman picked through Layla’s wardrobe, selecting her evening attire, she caught her Lady humming softly to herself. It was then Sahar decided she would indeed have a little chat with the Lord Verial, and soon.