The anti-Rainecourt meeting that she had organised hadn't been a success. Except for some relatively unknown, irrelevant commoners and lower nobility, barely anyone had showed up. This was actually the cause for the great amount of stress she had been feeling the past couple of weeks. That people hadn't shown up, didn't mean that they hadn't heard about it. She felt like people looked at her differently when she passed by them in the street.

That's why she kept to herself, stayed at home and took care of her children even more than usual. The maids didn't know what to do now lady Cortell was doing it herself. But they sensed that something was wrong, and that something was about to go down. Their lady was nervous, and they wondered why.

But she had made plans to go to the court that day. She would be meeting up with an old friend, to discuss what had happened. A few days ago, she had accidentally killed her husband, and she was afraid of what would happen to her now. The body was still in the garden. What Gunne didn't know was that this old friend was working together with the man that - unbeknown to her - tailed her. It was all one big setup. Gunne had put a warm coat on before she left the house. The carriage was already waiting for her to take her uptown.

Once she arrived, she looked around, trying to find her friend's familiar face, but she only saw people she vaguely knew. She tried to blend in with the others, but it wouldn't be difficult for Cam's guards to spot her now that she was present. 

The signal came sooner than Cam expected and after longer than he thought he'd be able to wait. The castle guards weren't in on the operation, of course--Cam didn't even know if the king and his court would approve of the castle being used as the site of the confrontation--but his own guards were stationed around the area, and Cam's eyes had been darting from one to the next, obsessively waiting for one of the men to start scratching and blowing his nose, keeping his mouth covered by his hand even as his thumb pointed discretely towards their target. A covered mouth was Cam's favorite signal; it was a perfect reminder of the challenge they faced in the woman they were about to engage.

Cam headed in the direction the guard had indicated. His other men would draw closer, at the ready in case of danger. He was comforted by the knowledge that they were probably as worried for their lives as Cam was. This was no fledgling witch-solider in training, this was an established, a priestess, a coven-member witch old enough and experienced enough to be dangerous.

She looked different than he remembered. They hadn't run in the same social circles often, despite being of similar age--she was of far more elite crowds than he, and his parents had made sure he stayed away from her after the whole business of her aunt anyway. But he had seen her a few weeks ago after first being notified of potential foul play, and she had seemed happy, healthy, and whole. Now she looked tired, jumpy, her face hollow. She seemed tense... dare he think scared?

He had expected arrogance and derision, but at the sight of her he modified his strategy. He relaxed his shoulders just a smidge, loosened his stride to be a more casual stroll, and put a delighted smile on his face as he approached her head-on.

"Lady Cortell, is that you?" he called out, as if pleasantly surprised to see her, an old friend, whom she should recognize. He gave a bow, dipping low in deference but rising quickly as if excited to get past the boring formalities. "What a wonderful stroke of fortune, seeing you here. I missed open court--I'm always out of Skia, so I miss everything that goes on--but I'd heard you were there, and I heard there was a rather unbecoming revelation about the current royal family that had a LOT of people wondering what is going on up there in the throne room."

The energetic, gossipy tone was an easy vocal mask to wear, and he waved his hands as he let his eyes bounce vacuously from her face to the side to the ground and back again as if he was so engaged by his thoughts he didn't have the brainpower left to register her expression or reaction. In reality, he was taking in every flicker of movement, from her face to her hands to the hem of her dress.

"Oh, forgive me," Cam went on, "I'm just so pleased to see you in person, to meet true royal blood . . . but you probably don't know me from a Cambrian. I'm Cam Pyetr." He offered another, longer bow.

Gunne still couldn't find her friend's face in the crowd. She was starting to feel claustrophobic and panicked. She didn't know the people around her and all eyes seemed to be on her. What did they all know about her? What did they want from her? She was trying to tell herself that she was just imagining things. Those men weren't looking at her. It was just a coincidence.

She was just about to give up and turn around to stand against the wall for a few minutes to see if her friend would stil show up when a voice startled her. The brunette jerked her head in the direction of the voice and saw a man that she did not know at all. But he knew her? She took a step back for a moment, her fingers briefly touching the fabric of her skirts under which her dagger was hidden. She kept her mouth shut and her face stoic. The way he approached her and the subject seemed... Too specific to be coincidental. After a few moments, she raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to speak, but then he continued by introducing herself.

"Lord Peter", she said, forcing herself to smile a bit. "True royal blood?" She hesitated. "You must have a death wish to day such nonsense in the palace." She nervously looked around. An anti-Rainecourt person approaching her in public? No, something was very wrong. She shouldn't have voiced her opinions so publicly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cam saw one of his guards frowning, the man's hand resting just a smidge closer to his weapon than it should have been. He knew why. The woman in front of him was twitchy and nervous, clearly unsettled. A woman in a state like this, on the verge of hysteria, was a danger to herself and everyone around her. These guards had seen women lose their minds to emotion, and that made them a liability to Cam. He wanted to swear. This was a bad idea. Approaching her in public, taking such a direct route, was going to get someone killed. Or, worse, it was going to come to the attention of the king and result in shame. He couldn't imagine a more humiliating reason for his name to be on the king's lips, and his family reputation wouldn't survive the blow.

He was relieved to see the woman pull herself together enough to make a reply; even using his name, however mispronounced, meant she had her wits enough about her to allay a bit of his fear. In truth, perhaps those around them wouldn't notice her state of agitation. Cam had spent most of his life watching women at the Beldam, however, and so he saw the movement of hand toward her skirt, the way her eyes didn't stop roaming.

Cam let out a laugh, tipping his head back as if she'd said the funniest thing he'd heard in days, a gesture he'd once seen a foppish courtier do when trying to flirt with a lady of higher rank. At ease, lady, at ease.She'd called his words nonsense, but she hadn't reacted with outrage.

"Oh, come, Lady Cortell, of course I have only the greatest respect for the lineage of our irreproachable king." He rolled his eyes in contrast to his words, leaning towards her and lowering his voice to add, "As I said, I miss most of the best gatherings in Skia due to my post; I would have appreciated the opportunity to discuss the latest decisions coming from the throne with like-minded, concerned individuals."

He leaned back to fully upright, smile brightening as his voice rose once again to a normal volume. He went on almost without pausing for breath, darting an obvious glance around as if checking to see who was nearby to overhear.

"You know, last time I was in Skia I had the enormous pleasure of visiting your husband's jewelry shop. A true talent, that man, and a sharp businessman. You must be so proud of his success."

The laughter only made her more nervous. Why did he draw so much attention to them when they were talking about topics such as these. The rolling of the eyes had her bring her hand up to her chest is disbelief, although it was very difficult to hide the fact that it somehow amused her. Was this man serious about what he was saying? If yes, he had definitely found the right woman to mention it to.

"I have no idea what gathering you're referring to, lord Peter- Pyetr?" She waved it away, as if his name didn't even matter at all, but her body language was inviting, somehow, asking him to tell her more about the gathering and how he knew about it, how he knew she was the one he needed to seek out.

But all of this disappeared again when the man mentioned her husband. At first, she took a step back, and then took two steps forward, getting up close and personal with the man. "What's your endgame here, my lord?" she asked through clenched teeth. "I've never met you, yet you seem to know a lot about me, so why don't you just tell me what you want."

She didn't seem calmer, but she was focusing on him, engaging, even responding. He felt heartened--perhaps it would be easier than he'd hoped to find out what he needed. But all that changed when he mentioned her husband. Big mistake. Fatal mistake, maybe. He couldn't maintain the ridiculous demeanor; the suddenness of her movement made him flinch back and drop the smile, true fear flashing in his eyes in the moment when she stepped closer. He saw two of the guards moving towards him from behind her, walking but still moving deliberately towards them.

Well, he'd blown his disguise. Time for a new strategy. She wasn't reaching for anything, didn't seem to be thinking through a spell. This didn't have to get violent.

He lifted a hand, making a hold signal towards one of the men with his thumb bent in front of his palm, a nuance that meant "one of you." One of the men stopped and turned, trying to look inconspicuous. The other kept walking towards them, but at a slower pace, and he would nod if the lady turned to look.

Cam lowered his hand and exhaled as if steeling his nerve, flickering his eyes quickly around before he put a more serious look on his face and met her eyes evenly. His voice was low and urgent when he spoke.

"Did you really think you would stay anonymous after what you've done?" He stepped closer. "I've been trying to find you without drawing attention. The king heard about your meeting. You're not safe. But I meant what I said. You have friends, myself included. I can help you, but you have to trust me."

The hold signal definitely gave him away, but it seemed like Cam had been prepared for that. He dropped the act, and his next words weren't kind and nice anymore. Trust him? She didn't trust him at all.

"How'd you help me?" she asked, almost spitting the question at him. Gunne did not believe for a second that Cam had good intentions, especially not if the king knew about her sentiments towards him.

Her intensity was good. Her focus was on him, and while that meant the pressure was on to keep her calm enough not to attack and engaged enough not to run away, it also meant she believed him enough to stay put for at least a moment longer.

"You need to get away. Skia isn't safe for you or your family right now. There are . . . well, the less you know the better, but there's something coming soon that will change everything. Until then, I can provide safety, somewhere you'll be out of the king's reach and away from nosy neighbors or prying eyes."

Another risky gamble; the Lady Cortell was no hermit, so the thought of isolation might not appeal to her. Still, he had to bet on the fear she'd shown upon arrival still being strong enough to make her want to get away from this court and its scheming nobles.

"Trust me," he said, "and I won't let you down."

She wasn't that naive. He had told her he knew about her anti-Rainecourt sentiments and didn't seem to agree with them, meaning whatever he had said earlier was just a little show he had put on. Now he was offering to help her? She didn't trust it for one bit. "Trust you?" she said before laughing softly and shaking her head. "No."

The woman turned to leave, but assuming that Can's guards were nearby, she wouldn't be able to get very far. If any of his guards were to approach her, she'd bite the soft spot between her index finger and thumb as a sacrifice to summon a sandworm/snake monster (about 16'5 feet long) to form a protective circle around her. The courtyard wasn't too busy and crowded, but the people present would certainly notice the summoning and move back from whatever was happening.

Sweat was trickling down Cam's spine, the hot pulse of his blood a steady tempo at his neck. The chilly air made him feel more alert, adrenaline warming his fingers. It took work to keep his breathing under control, to pace the air through his nostrils and not let his mouth fall open to pant.

Cam wasn't as good as some of his employees at reading people's face, but the expression on Lady Cortell's was clear enough even before she spoke, and disappointment curled through him even as adrenaline surged. He curled both of his hands into fists at his side, and the guards that had stopped before started moving again, four in total approaching. When she turned away from Cam, he didn't so much as spare a glance around the courtyard before he swung a fist towards the back of her head, hoping to hit her hard enough to at least knock her down, if not out.

Cam was successful at hitting her in the head, but she was already mumbling the words to summon the creature. His hit wasn't hard enough to knock her out, but it certainly disoriented her and influenced the strength of her summoning. The creature was less powerful than she had hoped it to be. Still, Gunne fell to the ground and the snake-like creature turned towards Cam, ready to attack if he came closer to Gunne.

The crushing sense of failure that washed over Cam made him stand motionless at first, a wave of despair at the way the day had turned out. Weeks of careful planning and thoughtful scripting, all for naught. Shame followed closely; who else was here in the courtyard to witness this humiliating debasement by a women? How quickly would his mother hear about the ruckus from her gossip ring? He had done his very best to treat the Lady Cortell well, and rather than show appreciation or even modest understanding, she had sneered at him, rejected his staged support, and now had used her foul magic to attack him.

Cam shoved the emotions into the deep box in his soul, the flicker of a vein on his forehead the last outward sign of the rage within him before he was once again calm and cool.

He stepped back. Slowly, carefully, eyes fixed on the creature that now stood between him and his prey. If it lunged at him, he would try to dodge, throwing himself as far from danger as possible. If it watched him leave, he would step back far enough to make room for someone else to do something. He was the brains of the operation, after all, not the hired fists.

The guards had their orders: they were not to harm the lady, if possible, but to bind and gag her for transport to the reinforced carriage outside the castle. Two were even wearing cloaks that they were told to use to cover her head and face during transport. Cam had wanted her to retain her dignity when making his plans. Now, he almost wished the guards would shoot her full of arrows for her insolence.

Be calm. She would be back in the good graces of his control soon. She had nowhere else to go.