On Silver Wings

Hereto I Give Thee My Troth

Kerbuchard stood in her dress of 'state' ... a multicolored number that was midthigh, if that, and had wispy sleeves of fine gold mesh material, a plunging neckline that she filled nicely even at her advanced dragon age. It was perfect for juggling or cavorting with the unicyclers. She leaned against her desk and stared into the eyes of a man she'd known for years ... or thought she'd known.
"Taille," she murmured. The face was his, but the eyes were not right. The guards held him and he was snarling in their grasp, itching to be let go. To what mysterious end she could not guess. Could the man she had loved, married, who's daughter she bore, who's city she loved, be this same man? He had sliced her son's face, forever marking him; for that alone she would have let her dragon's anger fly at any other man.
Not this one. Then again, this man was not the Taille she knew. Still, she could not lift a hand against him. In fact, she stared into his bleak, twisted gaze and realized she was not ready for this. Her children were not ready for this.
Her voice trembled slightly. "I... I cannot." She took a deep breath. "Accomodate the Mayor comfortably," she told the guards. "But securely. I don't want him getting away yet. Not now.. not again.." she whispered. "Not so soon."
"The Lord Jester was Mayor here! The Lord Jester is dead!" He repeated what he had screamed at Beau in a loud voice for Ker's benefit. His hair was wild and he looked like some dark, avenging angel. She felt the blood leave her face.
"No, no," she calmed. "My Taille is not dead.. just misplaced. We will find him again, you and I, when I can brave the search."
"Liar!" The Mad One screamed at her as he had to her son. His lunge was not unexpected and the guards restrained him, then dragged him away to his accomodations. Ker looked up as her son and Marcus came into the long hall where her office was. What would she say to her son and daughter of this man so unexpectedly returned?