TBTT later: Spill it, Golden Boy

[moonshadows]

As the echoes of the Warlord’s boots fade down the hall, Joshua becomes aware that every eye in the room is on him.

“Spill it, golden boy,” the whip-thin Minister of War says suddenly, lips pressed into a grim line below her steel-blue eyes.

“Spill it?” Joshua repeats blankly. “I don’t kno-“

“Yes you do,” the Minister of State interrupts, jowls jiggling as he shakes his head. “Don’t play dumb. Our Lord calls you in for private meetings more than all of us combined.”

“But that’s just-“

“About his tame demon. We know.” The lanky Minister of Agriculture waves away his protest. “This isn’t the first time he’s stormed off. Tell the truth, he goes to visit her when he does that, doesn’t he?”

“He…uh…yes.”

“That’s what we thought.” The minister of War points one bony finger at Joshua. “And he’s with her right now, isn’t he.”

Joshua forcibly composes himself. “Most likely.”

 The reedy, sour-faced Minister of Finance harrumphs. "Hopefully she doesn't take all night calming him down, seeing as he ordered us to stay put this time."

“Agreed. It's such a pain to get called back just when I've settled into doing something else," State complains.

"Anyone else would have learned after the second time," War sneers.

Agriculture leans over to Joshua. "You've got the Warlord's ear, how about you relay a message for us?"

"Excuse me?"

War fixes him with a disapproving look. "Don't play dumb. He listens to you, on the subject of his demon if nothing else. Are you going to try to deny that?"

"No," Joshua says. "I'm not. What message do you want me to relay?"

"Just tell him to bring his demon to the meetings," Finance grumps.

State leers. "Unless what she does to calm him down is something children shouldn't see." He pauses. "On second thought, especially if it's something children shouldn't see."

"I'll tell him," Joshua says flatly.

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The door slams open. Before it can be slammed shut again, Tessa is off the couch where she was on her stomach reading and across the room grabbing the oil. He’s sitting in the armless chair by the time she turns around, and she doesn’t even bother with the cloth. Both oiled palms slide up the heavy curves of his horns while she blows a cloud of diffuse reassurance at the whirling blades that shield his mind. They slow, then stop, and she slips inside.

She doesn’t know what happened in the cabinet meeting, but boy is he pissed. Anger and irritation rampage and swarm respectively through his mind, bogging down the parts that work and making the rest gouge into the flesh of his mind. The anger is easy; she lures it to its barricade-pen with the face of his brother and gels it in place. The irritation is not as simple to deal with. It swarms like insects, crawling all over everything. She tries to gel them, but they move too fast. The anesthetic foam will stun them, but she knows that’s not the answer. He’ll get suspicious if she uses that too much. She needs to find a long-term solution.

After a moment, she gels one side of a veil and lays it down in his mind. As each bit of irritation crosses the veil, it gets stuck. It doesn’t catch all the bits, but it gets the majority of them and she can see his beleaguered  mind start to work normally again – or rather, as normally as it ever does. She nudges a few pieces back into place and dabs anesthetic into some of the fresh cuts. As she checks his sense of responsibility for new damage, she discovers that he’d stormed out of the meeting after ordering his ministers to remain there until he returned.

Good thing I didn’t use the anesthetic, she thinks before her concentration is broken by his hands on her wrists. She comes back to herself to find him towering over her, holding her arms captive, a grim look on his face. Panic floods her. Did she slip up somehow? Did he detect her? Such worries are forgotten as he crushes her to his chest. She melts against him, soaking up the heat of his skin, radiating joy and devotion. One hand slides down underneath her wings to rest on the small of her back, just below the sensitive connection of membrane to skin, making her shudder with forbidden longing. The other hand strokes her hair.

“Thank you, my Champion.”

She hugs him tighter at the soft, gentle words, but skin is replaced by cloth and she reluctantly dons her own disguise as he releases her. He storms out as abruptly as he entered, and she stares wistfully at the door long after the echoes of his hooves have faded.

==================================

The distinct sound of the Warlord's boots come closer. Joshua has been listening for it, and straightens up first. War can't hear the sound yet, being furthest from the door, but she's been watching Joshua and she straightens up just after him. One by one, the other ministers assume attentive, businesslike appearances, as though they had not been twiddling their collective thumbs for the last half hour. The Warlord strides briskly back into the meeting room and resumes his seat as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. He does not display the lazily indulgent attitude of a well-red predator which unnerves the cabinet on the occasions where he has called them back two or more hours after dismissing them. The alert, almost hungry look he wears instead is equally predatory and every bit as unnerving.

"Now then," he growls, "Where were we?"

==================================

"You wanted to see me."

In the familiar privacy of the Warlord's office, Joshua appraises his Lord's mood. The growl is irritated, but significantly less than usual, and the corners of his eyes aren't as tight. He may not be in a full-on "good mood", but he's not nearly as angry as he seems. "Yes, my Lord."

"That's not like you. Did my ministers put you up to this?"

"Yes, they did." Although he is aware that there is more to his Lord than meets the eye, Joshua still finds himself underestimating the sharp - if unstable - mind behind those warm brown eyes.

The bigger man snorts. "Spineless worms. Very well, what are they afraid to say to my face?"

"They know that Tessa...has a beneficial effect on you," Joshua says delicately. "They would not object to her presence in cabinet meetings if that would lead to less interruption."

The Warlord turns away and strides over to the large viewing screen displaying his favorite mountain view. Joshua waits patiently, knowing that he is not being ignored. His Lord simply prefers to pretend he is alone while he thinks.

"I need to discuss the idea with her," he says without turning around. "I will not entertain this subject again, either in public or in private. If any of my spineless ministers bring it up, you are to inform them that I threw you out of my office in a rage. However, being the discreet and trustworthy servant you are, I trust you can throw yourself out of my office without the benefit of my rage."

"Yes, my Lord." Joshua fights a grin down, bows, and turns to go. At the door, he pauses and arranges his features into something more appropriate to having just endured his Lord's wrath. Hunching over slightly, he scurries out and shuts the door hurriedly behind him.