Chapter 8

Like a caged lioness was the best way to describe Queen Morgana as her son Mordrant slowly skulked into her apartments. He always dreaded these ‘meetings’, as he usually bore the brunt of the stupidity of others. Not that he was totally innocent of being stupid himself, occasionally, but he typically was loath to ‘take it like a man’, as mother so drolly put it. “Oh well, might as well face up to it. It isn’t going to get any easier by delaying it, now, is it?”

Morgana was pacing in front of the tightly draped windows in her sitting room. Her head jerked toward Mordrant as he attempted to slip quietly into the suite. “Took your time about it, didn’t you, boy?” Morgana said in a way that she knew would get a rise out of her son. “I knew you didn’t have it in you to own up to your bungling of the last job I gave you, but I had hoped that you could at least show a little spine where it was concerned. I mean, have I every really hurt you?”

“No mother. You’ve always been good at hiding your hurts from prying eyes.” Morgana hissed a bit at that, and Mordrant got a sliver of satisfaction at having tweaked her like that. “Have to be careful with that. Too much, and she might think I can actually think on my own. Can’t have that now, can we?”

The sound of her open hand connecting with his face was more startling than the fact that she had actually struck him. Only in the aftermath of the slap did the pain truly register. Mordrant pulled back within himself and shrank away from Morgana as she held her hand ready to administer another slap. “How many times have I told you to keep your tongue in your head? Perhaps I should just remove it and take care of that problem. You little shit! You think you can walk in here and just have your way?” Morgana started to pace again, and the heat of her rage sparkled in the filtered light. She was clearly working her way up to a full on rage, and Mordrant wanted very badly to be anywhere but here.

“Okay, here is how it is going to work from now on. One, I will give all the orders. Two, you will do exactly as you are told. Three, if you so much as move a step in the wrong direction, I will come down on you like a wraith!” Morgana wheeled and centered her fiery stare on Mordrant until he nodded in resignation. “You will NOT be given a chance to screw this up again. You will keep it in your pants and tightly zipped! You fuck with my plans and I will kill you, not hurt you, but kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Mordrant muttered something, and Morgana slapped him again, hard.

“What did you say, you little bastard?” Morgana hissed into the echo of the slap.

Rubbing his stinging cheek, but trying not to give her the satisfaction of seeing him shake, Mordrant said, “I said yes mother...”

“Good. Now that we have the ground rules in place, let me go over your part in this little play. In a nutshell, all you have to do is show up at the end and try not to step on your dick. Do you think you can handle that, you pathetic waste of space?”

A white-hot rage roiled inside Mordrant, but he couldn’t let it out now. Later, later was a good time, but not now. Not on her home turf. Not trusting himself to say anything, Mordrant once again nodded. In a tightly pinched voice, he added, “Have I your leave? Then, madam, I bid you a good day.” Turning on his heel, Mordrant strode from the Queen’s apartments and toward his own. In the dark privacy of his own apartments, in the inner sanctum of his private little world, only then did the rage within Mordrant begin to see the light of day. It was not a pretty sight to behold.