Chapter 2, quick and in a hurry. My muse likes these 2.

Any suggestions are welcome, folks. What song should she sing? XD

SSS

Lucy Gray grips the sides of the sink, stomach clenching and unclenching over and over again, and wonders how she could've been so stupid. So naive.

She escaped to the bathroom the moment they returned to the house. It's the farthest she can go. Peacekeepers and who knows who else are stationed all around the house now. A security detail for the esteemed Presidential Candidate. There's nowhere else to run.

The car ride from the train station had seemed to last forever. She'd sunk into the seat beside Leod, using his broad frame to shield her from those blue blue eyes. She didn't know how she'd expected him to act. More angrily? More…violently?

But he hadn't. He'd conversed with her soon-to-be-husband in an even, mildly bored tone the whole way to the house, apparently ignoring her completely. The last fifteen years seem to have taught him control. Or at the very least, patience.

That's the thought that scares her the most. That it is only patience.

When they emerged from the car, it was his hand that found the small of her back, fingers pressing into the knobs of her spine. Not Leod's. She's not sure how that happened. The fabric of her pretty blue dress felt too thin. His touch burns like his eyes do.

She should never have come back. She should've known he would find her. It was written in the stars, afterall.

Lifting her head, she stares into the pockmarked mirror above the sink. Her own eyes stare back, dark and wild as she hasn't seen them in a long long time. Her cheeks are flushed.

"Lucinda?" Leod's voice outside the door startles her, and she jumps. "Are you well?"

"Fine. Just a minute, darlin'." she tells him, and presses her forehead to the glass. She can't go back out there. Can't face him again. But then, it's not like that's even really a choice. She can come out on her own, or he'll have her dragged. Of that, she has no doubt. "Just powderin' my nose." she adds. She'll even make it true. Leod bought cosmetics for her. They can help her hide. Help conceal her trepidation. Her fear.

Outside the door, her future husband chuckles, and as his footsteps retreat she hears him mutter something about 'women.' He has no idea the serpent he has invited into his home.

Memories of a young blond peacekeeper punching Billy Taupe over and over play behind her eyes. Leod has no idea the danger he's in.

Every step she takes to the drawing room is a struggle. She'd much rather return to her room. Or better yet, climb out a window and disappear. But that isn't an option anymore, and she has a part to play.

She takes a deep breath before she opens the door, dusting off acting skills she hasn't had use for in fifteen years. Then she pastes on a smile, and strolls into the room as though her destruction doesn't await within.

The two men are seated in the meticulously mended armchairs that flank the only large window in the house, and she tries to focus on Leod, but her eyes are drawn instead to him. To the way the sunlight gilds his white-blond curls and highlights the arches of his cheekbones. She wishes he weren't still beautiful.

"Here I am," she declares brightly, bobbing an exaggerated little curtsy, and forces her eyes away, to Leod, who's smile is warm and uncomplicated. "All freshened up!"

"Excellent." her fiance beams, so delighted with her, and holds out his hand for her. She takes it, lets him draw her closer as he turns his face back to his guest. "I was just telling Mr. Snow what an excellent musician you are, my love." he informs her, and she almost flinches. Her eyes flick back up to the man across from them, in time to see his own gaze move from her hand resting in Leod's up to her face.

His eyes seem a shade darker than before. She resists the urge to pull her hand away.

"What an extraordinary talent; you must sing something for me." he comments, and though it sounds offhand and appropriate to a man addressing another's betrothed, she hears the command.

"Why I'd love to, handsome, but I'm afraid my voice is a bit off this mornin'." she retorts, then nearly bites her tongue. She shouldn't antagonize him. She shouldn't call him handsome. She's played the insipid girl for years; where is she now she needs her the most?

Across from her, the corner of Coriolanus Snow's mouth twitches, even as his gaze becomes sharper.

"Nonsense!" Leod's voice breaks the moment like a rock thrown through a window, and once more she jerks her face away. "You sound lovely as always, my dear; do sing something for our guest."

"Of course," she forces a light laugh, then pulls her hand from his and withdraws to settee at the edge of the room, where her guitar rests. For once in her life, she's not sure what to sing.