A candle light dinner
Two knocks signaled the approach of someone outside Lilithâs cabin. âMiss?â Came the stern female voice from the other side, the tone of an uptight soldier obvious, just as obvious as the slight, controlled nervousness. âGrand General has asked you to join him for a dinner in captainâs cabinâ The soldier informed, still not entering. She fixed her helmet, its bronze ornaments glittering in the shady light of the shipâs corridor. There was no precise knowledge who the woman theyâd picked up at Bilgewater was, but she knew enough of her commanderâs plan to know who she was to become. And an actress donning that role would have to be nothing short of cunning and dangerous. The raedsel readjusted the sheatheâd sword on her belt, feeling it nag her hip through the arms coat as she waited for the guest.
Meanwhile, Swain sat in captainâs cabin, his fingers drumming the surface of the navigatorâs table in slow pace. The red eyes were fixed on the candle, the glittering of flame reflecting in crimson colored irises as he contemplated his plan once again. It was unusual gambit heâd chosen to play with Matron of the Black Rose. And they were taking an unusual risk in doing it. He let his eyes drift to the dinner table being prepared across the room, taking note of the flawless positioning f cutlery and pitchers of wine, as well as appetizing dish of fruits and wine bottle. Everything was being done by the etiquette. A wry smile flashed on his lips at this thought. The shipâs chef had apparently done more than just served soldiers his whole career. Swainâs eyes returned to the flame, man reminding himself to forward a word of compliment to the shipâs captain for discreet and professional crew.








