DH AN: Well, it's been a while for any of my solo projects. The In A Name coauthor fic bunnies were super good to me lately. And well I got to host said coauthor for a lovely two weeks… but I digress. Please Enjoy Chapter Ten of An Heiress' Mantle.

AN 2: As always, thank you to Ataahua for the use of her Aviary


Chapter Ten

He's stiff, sore, and sour. His venture did not go as planned, that much he knows. And now he's no doubt in custod-

No, this bed is much too soft to be that of a jail cell. And it's far too quiet. Far, far, far too quiet. The only sounds are the ventilation system and perhaps water moving through the pipes. He settles in to the monotony of those sounds as he lets a low, almost inaudible hiss of breath slide past his teeth.

For two minutes that constant remains. Until a faint, almost equally inaudible, whine squeezes through the tranquility. From his right. He sits up a little too quickly as he winces at a squeezing pain in his torso… right where he got kicked in the gut if he recalls correctly. And then the goose egg on the back of his head makes itself known… now that was just a cheap shot- and he knows all about those.

Another low whine that boarders on a whimper seizes his attention. He immediately reaches into the right pocket of his cloak, wrapping his fingers around the Millennium Rod, and as has been habit for the last month- or more precisely the two weeks before his bout with bronchitis- reaches for her mind. Likewise as in those two weeks, the attempt is met with an all too familiar while simultaneously out of place rebuffing that's still not entirely explicable. Perhaps even more inexplicable is that he doesn't press further.

His stilling at the outcome and the small frown that tugs at his lips is nothing new. But his mind coming to a screeching halt- now that is a rare feeling; one he doesn't exactly care for. It only took two seconds- if there were kilometers between them, as it should be- it'd take fifteen- it didn't and that means-

"Snooping girl…" The words come quietly through his teeth. He exhales slowly and feels the ire's edge go with it. His ever-present glare softens as he looks over to the next bed. Arlomhe Sharti's posture is tense- her subtly shaking form, and the fact that she's curled into as much of a ball as possible- as if in dire need of warmth- all of these factors give him the impression that her sleep isn't restful.

A minute later, the cold bites into his exposed upper body, but the fact that Sharti has now relaxed slightly and isn't whimpering anymore makes the self-imposed temperature change far more bearable. And blanketing her with his own cloak has always been among the easier ways to subtly allow his heart some use- after all, keeping it in a figurative desk drawer only serves to keep a reputation that she once gave another of his employ quite the impressive black eye over- a reputation that even after nearly seven years she cannot see is valid- alive and well. Then again, that has never been his reputation with her.

He grants her sanctuary within his office, and he hasn't ever had to drag her in at any point- physically or otherwise. She always arrives willingly. To Arlomhe Sharti alone, he has ceded the advantage his office provides him. The cession of the office advantage is only one thing among many that those among his ranks would incorrectly attribute as a sense of mercy- he knows that some foolishly already have.

He has no mercy. The one on the bed before him however has enough to spare, but she also has enough sense not to be made a fool by it. He's often questioned whose ire would be worse to incur- that of The R.H. or that of Arlomhe Sharti. All his wonderings into that question so far have been inconclusive… anger someone in the right place- all bets are out the window. He has to admit that justified anger is far more terrifying- and that's Arlomhe Sharti's only use for the emotion.

"Foolish girl, you get so cross over the smallest of slights that often aren't even yours to bear." He runs his finger lightly along her right shoulder, pulling a strand of her hair along the path so that it now lies on the pillow rather than in her face. "You care too much," He runs the back of his hand lightly along her right cheek. "Perhaps to make up for how often I choose not to."

Suddenly the air conditioning turns on, and there's now more pressing matters to attend to- a warm shower and a change of clothes top the list. He steps back and turns to drop to the bag at the foot of the bed. He pulls out the first of three sets of clothes, tucks it under his arm, and heading into the ensuite bathroom, again flings the door with a touch too much force and is met with a noise that would likely wake the dead. He rubs his forehead with his index finger and thumb… there's no doubt she needed the sleep this time.


She wakes to a slam with a white-knuckled grip on the outside of the covers. No- no that can't be right, she's laying on top of those. She stares at the ceiling, counting the small protruding dots in a small section as her grip slowly loosens on whatever covers her. Her right hand slides underneath and she freezes. The cloth is lined. Also warm. The thought drowsily drifts through her head and she relaxes for not even half a second before she jolts completely awake as the sound of a running shower slices through the silence. And any doubt over what's covering her fades with it.

It's The R.H's cloak.

He's awake.

He wasn't successful.

This time, she's the only one present to take the brunt of the fury that accompanies these failures.

She sits up in the bed and frantically glances to her right. The negotiation package is still there, undisturbed. Arlomhe releases the breath she's been holding as her senses caught up with her. At least one thing went right. She sees the initials A.S. in large print on the side of the envelope where the flap closes. On the flap, she swears she can see something in far smaller print. Her hand trembles as she reaches to turn on the lamp that rests on the shared nightstand.

There is indeed something written on the envelope's flap.

I forgot to mention that across the street, there's a café with a cozy booth perfect for perusing this packet- or putting some distance between you and the pending, inevitable, unpleasant conversation with your employer.- N.R.

"Is he trying to get me to slip up and panic? Because I'm doing that just fine on my own right now. Also his penmanship is sorely lacking." The words come out barely audible as she shuts off the lamp. "Of course he was probably in a hurry to get back to the not-girlfriend-but-so-obviously-girlfriend; not that I blame him, she's likely better company than who I'm stuck with."

She stands, setting the envelope aside, and turns her attention to the dark colored heap on her bed. It's just bad form to not show some form of appreciation for the gesture. She lays the cloak out over the bed, pulls the sleeves in, fastens the hooks with relative ease, folds it in half with the hooks forming the fold line, and keeping the fold on the right, folds it over in the length's middle once and then folds over the still longer length side at the new middle and is now left with a manageable, neat, more square bundle. She quickly checks over the habitual handiwork before setting it on the other bed near the foot.

Within a minute and a half, Arlomhe is in her shoes and almost out the door. The shower is still running. She stops. 'Ill-advised' doesn't even begin to cover what going out without leaving a note would be. She scribbles one and leaves it on top of his cloak. Negotiation packet in hand, she checks her back pants pocket for the keycard and the right side pocket for the cell phone. Upon finding both, she steps out of the hotel room, and crosses the parking lot and street with no hassle.

"Huh, Café de Flore." Arlomhe views the bright orange sign. "I thought that was just a small European chain - must've decided to branch out." She steps inside, thankful for the subconscious jolt of alertness that merely smelling coffee causes. "Good ness I need some caffeine."

She gives the menu board a once over and pulls a five pound note from her left pocket. It'll cover a cup of tea. She orders an Earl Grey, doesn't take the change, grabs two packets of sweetener and claims the booth near the door, and the seat that has a view of the door. Two minutes later, the barista puts the mug on the table. It's spewing steam. She glances over to the wall opposite the door, lined with stools at a waist high counter and a mirror pane all along the wall, the glass border running parallel to the counter and to the ceiling. Even from a distance she can tell she looks like hell. She adjusts herself so that it's easier to look out the window, jostling her issued cell phone in the process.

When it rains… Arlomhe heaves a loose sigh as she turns on the device… The phone blowup is the least of her problems. The device emits a three second long noise as all the notifications bombard in at once. Twenty missed calls almost evenly split between the only contacted three, five voicemails- all from Odion with varying degrees of the closest to frantic she'd ever heard out of him. Ten missed texts- six of which are merely acknowledgements of the ones she sent that morning- and three timestamped around two hours prior inquiring on whereabouts and an estimated ETA. And one that read Relax, enjoy the time away that was from Harkin. She rolls her eyes at that one and barely stops herself from typing I wish! in response. She sets the phone aside. At least the large white flower vase of sunflowers is pleasant to look at.

She pulls the papers from the envelope and spreads them all over the table. There are five pages in total- three pages worth of documents, one page with a very well-drawn map, and one page in Benu's script that's not for her, provided the "Dear Mister R.H." she happened to glance at was any indication.

The first page is straightforward, Date: set up for two days from now. Time: About the time it is right now. Reading the location, she bites back a curse. Please tell me I am not sitting in the middle of a Cobras front. She slides the papers into the envelope, frowning as the steam still spews out from her tea; it's too hot to drink yet.

"Something that valuable is quite the bargaining chip…" The words run on repeat through her head joined by the smallest flash of that card. The card that he doesn't have. One that he clearly wants.

And she's the unfortunate messenger who gets the pleasure to certify what he likely already knows… he likes confirmation.

The steam from her cup has now slowed to a trickling wisp that has breaks in it. She moves to take the cup into her hands, halting just as her fingers reach the handle.

It wasn't yellow- no that card was unmistakably golden- like his jewelry, like the desert sun… no way that was a misprint- She finally takes the cup into her hands. Production is regulated and there are people solely trained on how to spot suspect cards…so it must be the only one… but what card would be so valuable that he wouldn't consider-

"And now Ms. Khouri…prepare yourself for my unbreakable strategy's centerpiece!" The moment flashes through her head and she trembles, narrowly avoiding sloshing her cup's contents.

God card. The phrase bounces through her head in the same manner as "Rank Stripping" would leave her lips- severity acknowledged in the words barely given voice. Doesn't he know how dangerous thos- She shakes as she sets the cup down. Of course he does. Therein lies their power. I can't negotiate… let alone for that- it's something significant only to him. She chokes the inside of her pockets. But I have no choice if Benu will only negotiate with me. She wouldn't be at all surprised if Benu's little note was something to that effect.

Arlomhe always dreaded her employer's habit of shooting the messenger. She finally takes a small sip of tea and then finds herself gulping the contents of her mug as if it's going to run off. She sees the same barista place another mug and two packets of sweetener in front of her.

"I didn't order that."

"You did pay for two, Miss." A glance at the menu board proves the barista right. "You look like you could use it anyway."

Understatement of the year. She nods and murmurs a "thank you." And the barista leaves her quickly enough for her to watch her employer place his order, pay, and pace towards her occupied booth.

He stops and sets his hand on the edge of the table. "May I join you, Ms. Sharti?"

Arlomhe nods limply in approval. He slides into the booth with a slight wince and stares at the dead center of the table. His coffee arrives soon after and she watches his gaze shift slowly to that.

She's waiting for The R.H.'s pending explosion.

There's a twinge of sympathy and possibly empathy that Benu's trying desperately to ignore. Something she only accomplishes after reminding herself that she's safely behind the one way mirror rather than in the direct line of fire… three times.

But she's been there enough to absolutely know the course this conversation will take. It's certainly not going to be a pleasant one. She briefly regrets making light of it earlier, all it did was stir up Little Lookout's nerves- Benu admits that Arlomhe Sharti may be the best at pushing any nerves down that she's seen since Nassr.

She can't tell whether Mr. Really Hot's staring his mug down notches up the tension or assuages it. Ms. Sharti's expressionless face isn't cluing her in either. Benu nearly misses Arlomhe's shoulders rise and her expression change. Apparently she can't take the silence anymore. A small hesitance on Sharti's end gives Benu just enough time to flick on the hidden microphone in the vase. "My my, Little Lookout has good taste… how'd she know that sunflowers are my favorite?" Benu threads her hands behind her head. "And thus, have the best quality spy mic?"

Benu watches as Arlomhe slides in on the table and speaks a little lower than normal conversation level. "I followed you last night because I… I didn't trust your judgement." The mic picks up a sharp inhale. "I'm sorry. It was stupid, and won't happen again. I'm-"

"You're the only reason I'm not in a jail cell." Sharti's employer wisely mimics the low conversation tone.

Benu's brows arch in mild surprise. Well… that's certainly not what I was expecting. Clearly the girl in the booth wasn't expecting that either, if the recoil of surprise is any indication.

He continues with a softness in his voice that's clearly solely reserved for the one across from him. "You had your reasons. And I've known for years better than to question them unless absolutely necessary."

"Are you…are you feeling…?" Benu can't blame the other girl for her inability to choose the right word. He was quite out hours ago and apparently was getting over something before then- it was the only explanation for why he wasn't as entertaining.

He again winces. "I'm fine, Dear One." The address comes again softly with Benu watching as he draws circles on the table with his finger, the light above the booth catching a ring every so often and echoing the color of the card that still rests safely in her jacket's inner pocket. Which brings her to what she's waiting for. And Arlomhe doesn't disappoint.

"Sir… whatever it was you were after…you didn't get it."

The finger circling stops and she watches him tense, but that's all. Benu lets loose a somewhat dejected sigh through her teeth. Such a disappointment Dear Mister R.H. Surely failure chafes you more than that.

"I'm well-aware of that fact, Ms. Sharti." His voice now has its characteristic edge. A small smile flits across Benu's face. That's better, but I know you're not that composed.

"Lady Benu will only negotiate with me."

Benu leans back in her chair, propping her boots up on the counter. And you're not going to tell him why? Bad form Ms. Sharti…actually, that's probably a very self-preserving move on your part.

Immediately The R.H. is on his feet and in Sharti's face. Aside from a very minor flinch, the girl hasn't budged. "What did you just say?" Benu jolts forward in the chair. There we go. Perfect form from you, Mister Really Hot. As expected.

The mic picks up a shaky inhale and the girl is so pale her skin color almost matches the light beige table. However, her words lack any of that trepidation. "Lady Benu will only negotiate with me." Calm, determined, steady.

Words are the one place that you absolutely cannot afford to show fear in. Good for you, Ms. Sharti.

Benu shuts the mic off only after The R.H. slides back into his seat and his grip is around the handle of the coffee mug; only after the possible immediate danger is passed.

Two minutes later sees Benu with a steaming black coffee of her own and no one in the barista area knew she was there and back.

Just in time too; Arlomhe Sharti has just now handed over her little note that's probably a little more littered with jabs at him than is wise, but it's sure to solidify Sharti's credibility. Does it flatter her? Certainly not more than necessary, but to say there's not a little ego stroking for him as "Appreciation of the skill to form a quick and positive rapport" and for "her prompt cooperation" is expressed- well that would be a lie- she assumes Sharti learned at least something from her employer. Apparently it's Benu -2 R.H.-0, as he hasn't absolutely torn the letter to shreds and sets it down on the table, promptly pressing his elbows to it as he thinks.

He takes the note, rises from his seat, and says something very to the point- her lip reading skills aren't great when her subject is in profile- before he makes his exit. Eyes still on the now absolutely shaking girl at the table, Benu musses up her hair just a smidge, pops out her contacts and snags a bright orange barista's vest from a hook in the break room that connects through a semi-hidden doorway.

Arlomhe Sharti looks in desperate need of a refill, and in equal need of someone in her corner. A small voice in her own head reminds Benu that she's not the person for the job.


DH: That poor girl cannot catch a break from me. Also, yes there is a big giant nod to Ataahua's fic Ashes of an Emerald Phoenix Renewed. If you haven't, go read it already! Hope you enjoyed the chapter and please review. They make great early birthday presents. :)