Suddenly Ardara finds herself sitting on the floor, flung several feet from where she was gazing into her scrying bowl. Her first reaction is blind fury but the pain in her hands and arms makes her gasp out loud. Any sign of weakness in front of her servants was unthinkable and a cold calculating anger takes hold. Her hands felt as if she has been struck by lightning, the pain in her fingers intense, and she wants answers. No one was permitted to make her look weak in front of underlings.
Who can follow my magic back to me? And be this powerful at it.... They will pay dearly for this insult...
Ardara stands on shakey legs, unused to any feeling of weakness. A handmaiden moves to help her but Ardara raises a hand to halt her. “I am fine...” and the girl stops dead even though she sees her mistress tremble a bit.
Ardara makes her steps with some effort at self control. The pain still lingering, her feet and hands numb and tight feeling. With a shuddering breath she makes it to her table and places her hands on either side of the bowl, letting her body rest there. She takes a deep breath against the pain and once again gazes into the dark water. But the powerful surge of energy has left her unable to concentrate, her thoughts chaotic and scattered.
“Ready my bed... and I will learn more of this sorcerer on the morrow....”
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