When morning came and the servants showed up to bring water and check the pot she was already up, waiting by the window. Adele helped her change into a green kirtle before more arrived with her breakfast.
She was letting it all happen, a doll for the castle staff while her thoughts wandered outside, counting how long remained for the curse to manifest.
When the twins showed up, the first thing she did was ask them.
"Has he been found?"
Her tone had calmed, but Joan still betrayed anguish in her every gesture.
"Not yet. But you have more important things to worry about."
And the other brother: "Our father will see you. He is in a bad mood. I hope for you that you will choose your words more carefully now."
So this was Corentin, she judged.
Abelard in turn: "Call him his majesty and call us his highness. Not here, only before him. Don't talk unless forced and do everything he says."
"You are of Cormoran, I would be damned if he doesn't humiliate you. Just bear with it and you'll be fine."
"Don't push back." Abelard insisted while inspecting her dress. "You would only make things harder for everyone."
She nodded at everything.
Her heart raced for it to be finished. The humans had failed, now any minutes she stubbornly let by could cost her dearly. The moon had almost culminated outside.
So once they escorted her out and down to the ground floor she could hardly hold her impatience.
Hounds met her at the entrance, growling while she passed. Had they not been trained and held in chains by the guards, they would have attacked. On the other side, she noticed the door of the chapel.
The symbol of the saintess.
But they brought her before a large door, announced her and opened.
This was the throne room. It wasn't large but contained four columns and two braziers on the side, plus two more near the throne itself. The coal had just started to burn and smoke was choking the metal louvers.
A heavy wooden chair was covered with the pelt of a bear whose head hung at the top. Behind, on the wall, were three round shields carrying the emblems of three domains, central that of Pivert while of the two others, one was Cormoran.
Lord Mercier of Pivert was a colossus in raw clothes, a pelt for cloak and a heavy beard that he let grow wild. A plain crown shined on his head. His wife was absent; his company were two women who held one his cane and the other his wine.
His eyes followed Joan as she crossed the dim room, away from the entrance's light.
"Skinny." He groaned. "A wife should have some fat! Greasy and thick at the touch."
"They burn better that way, your majesty."
The lord rose his head, stunned. Guards tensed and behind her the brothers, their ginger head cutting the low darkness, held their breath. Joan, for her part, had kept her eyes fixed on the ground the whole time.
But their father, after a moment, started to laugh.
"They do! Ah ah ah, they do. What else?"
"Your majesty," she continued, "they squeal a lot but eat anything you throw at them."
Once more the lord burst into a monstrous laughter. The crowd around him stood in silence.
He calmed down, frowned and brought a finger up to measure his living trophy.
"You don't fear me in the slightest, do you? That wool hides a beast. I like that. Let's see how long it takes to beat you to submission."
Joan felt the urge to look up, resisted but her heart had started to tighten.
There was a man that was threatening her, a heavy gaze full of might. It felt so good, so nostalgic to her that she was forgetting herself. Before she knew it their eyes had crossed. That human's beastly looks, the expression of a murderer and that unwavering confidence...
She couldn't help but desire him now.
And nothing pleased her more in that instant than to see the same desire in his eyes, her worth reflected in a spark that was turning into a fire. If she proved worthy, why, that man could rapture her.
"Fall on your knees." He ordered.
"Make me."
"I will have you whipped."
"Yes, your majesty!" Joan's heart was going mad. "Bring a whip and see how long I stand!"
He was grinning now and she as well, already the lord was raising his hand when a twin walked forth to speak.
"Father!" He bowed. "If you whip her you would expose her back."
"So?"
"So she might become family."
Was it Corentin, she wondered? It sounded like him, she wasn't sure. Regardless, all she felt was anger. Her chance to prove herself was slipping away.
The lord nodded.
"Yes, yes. Then," he turned his gaze back on her, "what do you suggest?"
And her: "Let me walk on burning coal. Who would look at a female's feet?"
The lord rose from his chair, clapped his hands and exclaimed:
"Perfect! She is perfect!"
Already the servant offered his cane but he chased her away. There was such a joy on his face that he hadn't known even when watching a castle burn. A happiness reserved for beasts only content with violence and destruction.
"I have decided! Corentin, you will marry her!" And he looked at the son stayed near the brazier. "Well?!"
Abelard knelt. "Yes, father."
"Try and not get eaten alive, if you are capable of that. Ah! Ah." He clenched his fist. "Just a few years and I would have claimed her for myself! What heirs she would have given me! Make sure to work her well, Corentin, and our lineage will live strong again."
"Yes, father."
He was ready to chase them away but Joan knelt and talked again.
"Your majesty, the assassin still runs free! I wounded him, I have seen his face, please allow me to kill him for you!"
The lord felt insulted, then amused, then had one more bout of laughter.
"You heard her! Take your wife and bring me that head! Kill his family, kill his neighbors, I don't care but make sure it doesn't happen again!"
"Yes. Father."
She desired to stay with that lord longer, wished to touch him even but Corentin's hand had seized her arm and forced her to leave with him. Even then her eyes stayed on the lord and the lord's eyes on her until the doors separated them.
Only then did she remember where she was and what how much time had passed.
The moon had already culminated.
Yet she hadn't felt her blood in the distance.
"What was all of that?!" The twin had pushed her against the wall, furious. "Whips and charcoal? Are you..."
He stopped, breathed and stepped back.
"Do not talk like that ever again."
"Shouldn't my husband be the one lecturing me?"
Abelard nearly lost patience there and then. But his eyes looked past her and into the wall, and he calmed once again. She watched him walk away while Corentin stayed.
Neither of them uttered a word.
Joan wanted to leave, erase her mistake but was waiting on him, obediently still, and he for some reason just would not move, only keep his eyes on her, gauging her from head to toe and head again.
He was no less angered, boiling inside.
But even then, it gave her no thrill. To her it looked more like a pup she would have wounded. Growing ever more distant to her.