In point of fact, he had time for neither. Taking advantage of her signal and her cousins' intervention to headbutt his captor square in the nose, Cuthbert fumbled out the catapult from his pocket, and whatever Jacquard had been about to say became a shout of pain as a steel ball thudded into his gun hand. The pistol discharged as it landed, sending guests scattering, but if anyone had been injured, it wasn't immediately obvious.
Then Roland's gun was in his hand, and he was at Nariko's side, thumbing back the hammer. Now - only now - he was trembling with anger, his eyes alight with it. "She may care what you think, Henry. I don't. You have forgotten the face of your father, and disgraced the guns you bore. I care about only one thing from you: is this your treason, or Farson's? Who's been whispering in your ear? Did he come dressed in black, tittering of his conquests? Did he come to you to share a secret? A letter, maybe?" His voice was harder than diamond, but he was still shaking with emotion. His gun still trained on Jacquard, who was clutching his bloody hand and looking stricken, he looked around the hall. There was Cuthbert, catapult at the ready; Alain still wrestling himself free; Jamie with a knife to a man's throat. There were men he knew and trusted, attacking his kin. There were the dancers, looking almost as stricken as Henry.
"If you would name me traitor," he said at last, in a low, carrying voice, "then come forwards and do it. But if you would call me callow for marrying her, then remember: before Nariko was known to any of you, Farson's whore sat in that seat. Do you think I have forgotten? Do you truly think I am stupid enough to repeat the mistake that killed my father?" He set his jaw, turning his eyes back to Jacquard. "Her mother betrayed us. That, you will hear soon enough, and it is true. But if having a traitorous mother is enough to make one a traitor, then come forth." Again, his eyes roved the room, challenging and piercing. "Now, to my face, come forth and call me traitor."
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timeasmymeasure
sorry this got long and overdramatic
Date: 2015-02-04 12:44 am (UTC)Then Roland's gun was in his hand, and he was at Nariko's side, thumbing back the hammer. Now - only now - he was trembling with anger, his eyes alight with it. "She may care what you think, Henry. I don't. You have forgotten the face of your father, and disgraced the guns you bore. I care about only one thing from you: is this your treason, or Farson's? Who's been whispering in your ear? Did he come dressed in black, tittering of his conquests? Did he come to you to share a secret? A letter, maybe?" His voice was harder than diamond, but he was still shaking with emotion. His gun still trained on Jacquard, who was clutching his bloody hand and looking stricken, he looked around the hall. There was Cuthbert, catapult at the ready; Alain still wrestling himself free; Jamie with a knife to a man's throat. There were men he knew and trusted, attacking his kin. There were the dancers, looking almost as stricken as Henry.
"If you would name me traitor," he said at last, in a low, carrying voice, "then come forwards and do it. But if you would call me callow for marrying her, then remember: before Nariko was known to any of you, Farson's whore sat in that seat. Do you think I have forgotten? Do you truly think I am stupid enough to repeat the mistake that killed my father?" He set his jaw, turning his eyes back to Jacquard. "Her mother betrayed us. That, you will hear soon enough, and it is true. But if having a traitorous mother is enough to make one a traitor, then come forth." Again, his eyes roved the room, challenging and piercing. "Now, to my face, come forth and call me traitor."