Lys: Hatred

Aithne's hackles rose as Vortigern's purposes became clear. It was one thing to be sold by one's enemies, another entire to be sold by one's own father.

She procured some food for the Lady, and stood by as she had been trained, but should Gwenhwyfar decide to flee, Aithne would be standing in the way of her followers. She found a dining dagger lying discarded, and picked it up, hiding it in the folds of her tunic. Try me. she thought. How you evaded Cathair, I don't know, but you won't evade me if it comes to it. She would not allow Gwenhwyfar to come to a worse fate than slavery, and she despised Vortigern for arranging it. Before, she had feared him. Now she hated him with every fibre of her being.

She leaned down as though to arrange her Lady's platter, and whispered "If you wish to flee I will aid you as long as I am able. I'm sure you know of a place to hide until..." Until tonight.

Though fleeing, she thought, would mean an alert household. It would jeapordize the escape. "Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it."

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