At least an hour had passed since the morning's strange incident, and still yet the memory and mark of all those erratic feelings arched darkly over Iago's thoughts. He had since recovered from what he now perceived as a spell of utter and complete prostration, though he still wrested with the matter in his mind. What had come over him, that he had spoken so freely to Emilia? He pictured the pleading eyes, tears flowing freely as the fiendish angel bit demurely upon her roseate lips, arms wrapped around her trembling body… Sniveling wretch! Even as he imagined her in that state, it strained something within him, and Iago did not like it. He clawed his fingers into his cape, pulling it tighter over his chest, as if it might do something to shield his weakened heart against the vision.

Did he love Emilia? The question hung in his mind, even as he dodged the answering of it at all cost. To love Emilia was to sacrifice some part of himself and his dignity, to admit that he too possessed frailty, to confess that the enchantress had some measure of power over him. But to not love Emilia was to deny some part of himself and misuse her humility, to profess weakness in a diligent avoidance of frailty, to see the sorceress crumble at his feet in a way that disgusted him. Her kiss had filled him with fire-though that hardly accounted for much, Iago thought phlegmatically, for any man at one time or another might be suddenly made subject to unbidden carnal desires.

He thought of the fierce loyalty that shone on her face when she had declared she would not leave him, though he should descend into utter and complete madness. What folly it was, and yet, what admirable folly…and what sickening folly as well. He loved that she should pledge such unconditional allegiance to him; he hated that she should so obsequiously bind herself to him when just a night before he had abused her undeservedly. Was not Emilia wise? Perhaps being married to him had spoiled her good sense.

...Loyalty to him. She should remain at his side? Though he should traipse away into the darkness and never return…? If so, why then, perhaps...

Iago's eyes lit up savagely as he realized the addition to his arsenal that unsuspecting Emilia's deference made. Could not this be used to the advantage? The thought filled him with cruel excitement and appalled shock alike. Yes, Emilia could serve as another pawn on the chessboard he was readying to set… A pawn? A fig! A queen, haply. Indeed, dutiful Emilia could certainly play the queen… But surely, he would not involve an innocent woman in his unborn, underhand plot...

Nay, he would. Had not Emilia herself promised her adherence? And were not wives made to please their husbands, to make themselves useful to their lords?

Besides, Iago thought spitefully, Emilia might have sworn her loyalty, her allegiance, her adherence, but he did not know that she promised faithfulness, chastity, purity. There had been a passion, a thirst, a lust within her kiss, had there not? Regardless if such feelings were meant for Iago, did that not import licentiousness and lechery? He grimaced and wiped his lips with his fingers, as though some bit of the gesture still lingered. Who could say that she really loved him? Perhaps she made a show of love, simply to mislead him at her own pleasure. Faith, Iago knew much about insincere shows of love.

He looked bitterly across the room, where the Moor and the lieutenant stood conferring, and imagined his wife stood between them. The imagined Emilia threw furtive, lascivious glances about her as her lips formed a sensual smirk, and Iago's jaw set in mute revulsion as he pictured the wench dancing about them, running her slender fingers over their chests, making coy gestures and blowing wanton kisses. The vision seemed so lifelike, in his sleep-deprived state, that he blinked several times and wondered if not it were true.

The imagined sight of it made Iago's blood run cold with anger and a vulnerable feeling of betrayal. It reminded him that he could trust no one, for who could know if one was truly honest? Emilia, beautiful enchantress as she was, was no exception.