Kings of the castle

[Oriena]

Revenge? Of an after-school special variety, perhaps. Oriena wouldn’t have been so kind, whether the guy had saved her life or not: intention counted for shit. Dismissal itself could be a potent revenge, she supposed, but only when the apathy was genuine – and only when the other person actually cared; otherwise it simply looked weak. Jon had walked away – or escaped at any rate – but he still hated the guy, maybe even feared him, and every inch of that emotive reaction left a legacy of control. Ori would have severed those ties and twisted the knife while she was at it: made certain it was understood she was not to be fucked with. So her reaction to his “revenge in a sense” was equal parts pity and amusement. Jon had power at his fingertips, but he chose not to use it? Then he’d missed the point of being born different. Of being born better.

As it turned out keeping her mouth shut was worth it, to see the wicked grin ignite behind the splay of Jaxen’s fingers. An obnoxiously heavy thunk marked the return of his feet to the table, and this time he’d sprawled out completely, decadently smug. Ori presumed it meant he had understood Jon’s inference, that he now realised what exactly had knocked his feet off the table the first time, and if he wanted to play with the flames he’d discovered she was happy to oblige. Her instinctive reaction to the mischievous wiggle of his toes was a sly smile of her own. Of course she couldn’t resist the dare, and knowing what he was in kind only heaped extra fuel on that fire. It made things interesting. She leaned in to push the ice bucket with the flat of her palm, slow and deliberate until its winter chill lay flush with his bare soles. Petty retribution for the cold scoop dumped earlier on her knees. “Comfortable isn’t the point.”


Jaxen could admit defeat and remove his legs; he could be childish and inelegantly shove the ice bucket away; he could sit stubbornly regardless, or just shift his feet. Or he could move it. If he even could - and she suspected he would struggle. The glint in her eye extended playful challenge; it wasn’t a trap, and it wasn’t a trick; she was genuinely curious. Why could she sense nothing of either of them? Ori shrugged indifference to Jon’s sudden phonecall, though she paid more attention than she appeared. Her gaze flicked to him as he stood, then moved back. The power still thrummed through her faintly, though she could feel her control beginning to strain. One way or another, Jaxen’s feet were coming off her table. He’d made it a matter of principle now.