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Meet the Rebel Duchess herself!
“Lady Genevieve.” Lord Prydeen greeted her - coldly, but not correctly.
“The proper title is ‘Your Grace’, messir.”
And if she told herself that a few more times, perhaps she could dare to face him.
A wintry smile passed over the sorcerer's lips – gone as quickly as snow in the Summer. “No longer, I fear.
My former master stripped you of your titles for your treasonous activities.”
“My Lord Prydeen! What passes here?” The mild voice interrupted from the direction of the stairs, but was no
one Genevieve recognized.
Lord Prydeen’s voice was a curious mix of ingratiating and dismissive. “Nothing you need trouble yourself
over, Your Majesty. Some rabble found her way up here, clearly to cause some trouble to you. It is my task and
my privilege to safeguard Your Highness. We’ll be away momentarily.”
Gentle hands cleared away the thongs that had begun to lash her wrists. “Surely you are mistaken, my Lord
Prydeen. This is no rabble, but Her Grace, the Duchess Genevieve Stellarine of Elaarwen.”
“Yes, my Lord, the so-called ‘Rebel Duchess’,” Lord Prydeen’s voice was growing impatient. “I am taking her
to the castle dungeons to have out of her what she knows."