5.16 – Talking Business II

The proposition was so ridiculous it almost didn't process. Natalie stared at Elida, the words failing to make sense.

"What," Natalie said. "Is that some kind of joke?"

"Oh, don't think so lowly of yourself," Elida said. "It's not that far-fetched I'd want to take a chance on upcoming talent. Even someone like …" Her eyes flicked up and down Natalie. "Well, you."

Natalie laughed. There was a certain art form in how fluidly Elida could find the bitchiest possible thing to say—and how to say it. She considered how to respond, then laughed a second time.

What was there to say? The answer was so obviously 'no' that it was comical to even entertain the idea.

To Natalie's delight, her amused incredulity turned out to be the best response she could give. A flicker of genuine annoyance crossed Elida's face.

"You would be wise not to dismiss the idea outright," Elida said, keeping a level tone. "Previous hostilities notwithstanding. Surely you see the merit of the offer."

So the proposal was genuine? But why? And Elida was even trying to convince her—if not in the most friendly of ways. Surely Elida wasn't that impressed at her recent performances, or their team's progress through the dungeon. They were doing well, but not that well. Not outwardly, at least.

Was something more going on?

"Don't you already have a tank?" Natalie asked. She wasn't entertaining the idea of joining, but she wanted to pry for more information.

"For now." Elida tilted her head. "What does that have to do with anything?"

So, she'd be willing to drop Otto, just like that. Natalie wondered if he even knew this conversation was taking place. She assumed not. Elida didn't seem the type to care remotely about something like camaraderie—and sticking together for the sake of loyalty. She really was a piece of work.

"Why would I even want to join you?" Natalie asked. Heeding Jordan's advice to at least some degree, she cut off the closing remark of, 'You conniving bitch?'

Elida rolled her eyes. "Why would you want to join the clearly best-performing party of our year? Hm, I wonder. I assume to have even gotten to Tenet, considering your lack of pedigree—"

"Pedigree?"

"—that you have a few ambitious bones in your body. With that in mind, you would go much further with us than that ragtag group."

Ragtag? Natalie bit her tongue. She had already gone too far with her insults; she couldn't keep slinging them. This was a Parda-Halt, and the not-subtle threat from earlier reminded Natalie of the fact.

"Yeah, no thanks," Natalie said. "Not happening. Doesn't matter what you have to offer."

"Don't be irrational. Again, I understand your misgivings, but—"

"Not interested."

Elida's lips pursed. She studied Natalie for a long moment. When she finally responded, her voice was carefully neutral. Politely inquisitive. "When you got your class, Natalie, did something strange happen with the Bestower?"

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been abruptly dumped onto her. Natalie's amusement—and annoyance—over this whole encounter disappeared all at once.

"What?" she replied dumbly, feeling cold.

"Ah," Elida said. "You really do need to learn to control that." She tapped her own cheek, indicating Natalie's expression. She shook her head disapprovingly. "You give away far too much, far too easily. In a place like this, information is power. You can't just wear everything on your face. It's …" Her lip pulled back in a sneer. "Amateurish." She delivered the word like it was the highest insult she could offer.

"What are you talking about?" Natalie demanded. "The Bestower? What do you mean?" She took a step forward, not intending to invade Elida's space, but the action being instinctive. Elida raised her eyebrows, but didn't flinch or retreat. She looked up at Natalie with calm green eyes, barely a few inches of space between them.

"Oh, just wondering," Elida said. "Piecing together some theories of mine. Your team has been performing well. Too well. And you especially. Some would say suspiciously so."

"And what does that have to do with the Bestower?"

Elida tilted her head. "Nothing in particular. A stab in the dark, I suppose." Her expression revealed nothing, despite how blatantly the question hinted at her knowing … something. Which infuriated Natalie. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her side. "But as to my point," Elida said. "I'm not sure you want to dismiss me so easily. Clearly this offer comes for a reason. I'm an intelligent woman, whatever unflattering things you think of me."

Natalie stood there, thoughts racing. And fuming.

"I'm not leaving my team," she finally said, tersely. "And I'm definitely not joining yours."

"You find me that unappealing?" For a moment, Elida calmly analyzed Natalie. The two of them were close enough that they were nearly touching. Suddenly, Elida's lips quirked up. "Is there, perhaps, any way I could get back into your good graces? I think … certain apologies of mine could be quite convincing."

Elida's hands settled on Natalie's waist, and she finished closing what little space between them still existed. Her breasts pressed into Natalie's. Natalie froze—mostly from surprise, but, to her shame, not just that.

"I understand you're amenable to such activities," Elida murmured. "I've heard some very … impressive stories from our classmates." She leaned forward, bringing her lips to Natalie's ear. "They say the weapon a Parda-Halt is most skilled with is her tongue, you know. Would you like to put that theory to the test?"

Natalie's thoughts raced. She knew this was another calculated move. Elida, putting her off-foot for the eighth time in a row, and this time by using her body rather than words. But just because Natalie knew her opponent's game didn't mean she wasn't weak to it. Her head was already spinning from Elida's earlier implications—that she knew something about Natalie's class, and perhaps not just that, but how she'd gotten it, too. The situation with the Bestower. So having Elida, whom Natalie had already reluctantly acknowledged as being an extremely beautiful woman, suddenly pressing into her while making suggestive propositions was more than a little compromising.

But being so easily played with again made a sudden heat surge through Natalie. She growled, grabbed Elida by the waist, and shoved her into the nearest wall—not so gently. Elida, at least, finally gave a reaction that didn't seem perfectly in control: Natalie towered over her, the redhead's eyes going wide in surprise.

Except, even if anger had forced her to act, she was still floundering. How had Elida known about the Bestower? Did she know anything, really? And to what extent, if so?

Plus, standing there, the realization of what she'd done hit Natalie. She had just grabbed and shoved into a wall, roughly and with intent to intimidate, a woman from one of the most important—and dangerous—families in the world.

Insulting Elida was one level of stupidity, but this was another entirely.

Elida's expression suggested she agreed. The surprise passed quickly, morphing into a cold heat that radiated from her. She surveyed Natalie, unbothered by her proximity, and certainly not intimidated.

"I will forgive," she said slowly, "a breach of decorum from a woman who clearly doesn't understand what it is. But my tolerance only extends so far. Get off of me, Natalie."

For a second, Natalie considered ignoring her. Her thoughts continued to spiral.

"Why did you bring up the Bestower?" she asked.

"This isn't how these games are played, Natalie."

Fuming, Natalie debated what to do. Several long seconds stretched, but reluctantly, she stepped back. She knew she'd crossed a line. She couldn't go shoving people into walls and trying to intimidate them. Much less a Parda-Halt.

Elida smoothed her uniform off, seeming, once again, unperturbed.

"You're potentially about to be a very important person, Natalie," Elida said. "Any delver of significant advancement is, and I sense there's something special about you. Hence my offer." She leveled a significant look. "And my questions."

Again, teasing Natalie that she knew something. But how could she possibly know about the Bestower? Had she guessed, somehow, the origin of Natalie's class? Had she learned something about the waking Passions? Natalie's circumstances in a generalized sense? Maybe Natalie's situation wasn't as unique as she had assumed, and families like the Parda-Halts had information on it? If anyone would, it would be one of the five major families. Then again, Liz, a Beaumon, hadn't.

"You can't just force what you want out of people," Elida continued, her tone calm, even politely instructive, like she was offering friendly wisdom to Natalie. "You need to learn a subtler touch. Brutes can be efficient at times, certainly, but skilled, delicate touches, just as often. If not more." Her lips quirked. "I'm sure you can agree." She ran her eyes up and down Natalie, making the innuendo clear. Natalie's shove really hadn't done much to disorient her. "You would have a lot to learn from me, if I were your ally. So, really. Consider the offer. It stands. Give it the thought it deserves. It will be, I suspect, one of the more important decisions in your life."

She turned and made to leave, but abruptly paused.

"Oh, and I mean both parts of the offer," she clarified, smirking over her shoulder. "I am willing to make amends, if that would help smooth things over. Those stories I've heard from our classmates … they really do sound impressive. I don't want us to be enemies." She waved as she left. "I don't want you to be late on my behalf. So, hurry along. I'll be in touch."