How strange, John thought, to be granted admittance to Talia's quarters so easily, when for so long he had been forbidden even the hallway outside it. Selina's slim strong hand grasped his wrist, and though the guard at the door of the maid's quarters raised a brow, he let Selina drag John into the space beyond without a word.
Selina flung the door open into her mistress's quarters, and John followed her through and beyond, to the locked door of the boudoir, which Selina had open in a moment's space. Within sat Talia, seated before and leaning upon her vanity, for a moment vulnerable and unguarded and wretchedly tired, a woman of twenty-two summers with the weight of a thousand lies upon her back.
Then she drew herself upright and her face smoothed into a mask, and her nostrils flared as she recognized the intruders.
"Selina, what is this? Why would you bring him here?"
"We've come for Bruce," said John, when Selina failed to speak. "He lives, does he not? Speak wisely, woman, you are bargaining for your life."
Talia watched John closely, like a rabbit who has sighted a fox, but she spoke to Selina: "Has he harmed you?"
"No, my lady," said Selina; her voice emerged as a whisper, a tremor from her throat.
"Does he have a weapon?"
Selina did not answer, but instead took a long, shuddering breath, strengthening herself; John felt her spine straighten.
"Selina," said Talia, and her perfect, haughty mask collapsed upon itself, and her voice broke as she leaned forward. "Oh, god, have you betrayed me?"
She was close to John's side, and he heard the break in her voice as she replied: "I loved you, my lady-"
"Loved? You loved me?" Talia's voice rose, grief and disbelief and anger tightening the words in her throat and baring her teeth.
"You came to bed dripping his seed," spat back Selina, and by the end she was shrieking. "You bragged that you had murdered the man who loved you, and I discovered that you lied to me, when I was so blindly devoted to you, only because you raped him and you came to our bed smeared with him."
"There was no rape! My gods, Selina, what should I have told you? Knowing that my father would have you slaughtered the moment I said a word?"
"And you would have wielded his knife, I trust? Would you have waited until I was asleep in your arms, or would you have poisoned me from your own cup?"
"I only ever lied to keep you safe!"
"From your own gods-damned murdering ice-cold hands, you father-fucking bitch!"
"Selina- please-" Talia gripped the vanity's edge, scattering useless swathes of colored powder across the silk tablecloth.
"If he'd said the word, would you even have argued? Would you have spared a few words to beg for my life, or would you have gone straight for the knife?"
"He has already called for your death, and here you stand, screaming at me like the self-righteous slattern you are, never mind that I've saved your life-"
"Do you expect me to believe a word from your lying mouth?"
"Selina, I do love you, I would never-" Shame closed Talia's throat, and Selina thrust out her jaw in bitter absolution as tears spilled from Talia's eyes.
"It's not love if you can shed it the moment it becomes inconvenient, my lady. It's not love if you're waiting for a quarrel so you can put a dagger in my back. Did you take me for a fool, thinking I would not see my own fate forecast with the king's? When I saw through your lies, would you have taken me by force as well?"
"I would never take anyone by force, least of all you, despite your assumptions. How could you accuse me of these things, make me such a monster, and hold yourself superior over me? You lecture me on love, when you have been betraying me all along?"
"And you lecture me on treachery, when you planned my death? You, who gave Bruce the poisoned cup?"
"Bruce is-" Talia's eyes flickered over John, who stood with clenched fists, breathing like a blown warhorse. "Bruce was nothing next to you, Selina, you know that. Why would I keep so many secrets from you, if not for your safety?"
"Bruce is," repeated John, shouldering his way into the conversation. "Bruce is where?"
"Hidden," spat Talia, defiant, never taking her eyes from Selina.
"Surely you realize," John pressed, "that your father's schemes are ended. Will you tell me, or the king's torturers?"
"Neither," said Talia, and she picked up a thin ivory rod from the vanity. John dove for her hand, fearing some sorcery, but before he could snatch it from her she snapped it in two and dropped the pieces to the floor. No smoke billowed up; no sparks poured forth; only the pieces of the rod bounced to the carpet, and as John seized Talia's wrists she relaxed, pliant, into his grip, tear-swollen eyes fixed on the carpet.
Unnerved, John nodded to Selina, and she took up a silk scarf from the dresser and bound Talia to the chair, arms behind her back. It disturbed John to see the familiarity with which Selina's hands pressed into Talia's flesh, the way Talia avoided Selina's eyes but did not shy from the brush of her long hair over Talia's shoulder; a lover's betrayal, a hundred broken promises, the hurt and fury in Bane's eyes as John turned to leave him. He was only glad that Talia did not resist; he did not think he could bring himself to do any true harm to a woman, now that he knew Bruce still lived, and he would have been sick to see Selina bruise Talia's skin.
"The door is there," said Selina, nodding to the corner beyond the vanity, voice cold and methodical. "I suspect it to be magically weighted; Talia can open it, but I could not. Perhaps you..." She trailed off as John strode across and, with scarcely a moment to scan the wall with his trained eyes, depressed the panel and produced a quiet crack in the wall. He bent his shoulders to the task; the door slid only a few inches. Selina came to help him, and with great effort they budged it further, until enough space was revealed that they could each slide beyond. Still Talia sat, silently accusing Selina with her eyes, waiting for her magic to take effect, while the two of them descended into the darkness.