Carolus tightens his grip as Siegfried lowers himself to eye level with Petra. He leans in so close as to fill her entire view. He smiles at her, a bemused, patronizing smile. He understands very well why she hates him, why she struggles. Many people hate him but few of them struggle. He feels compelled to tell her this – perhaps sympathy is the key to her obedience.

But just as Siegfried opens his mouth to say, “Now, Petra –” Petra wrests herself forward and spits in his face, an audible, forceful strike just right of his nose. Violently, Carolus yanks Petra back by the collar of her dress, but Siegfried raises his hand, signaling him to deliver no further force.

Then there is utter stillness. In the slits of their helms, the whites of Carolus and Berard’s eyes dart back and forth between Siegfried and Petra. The only audible sound is Petra’s heaving breath, her stare unwavering. Siegfried rises to full height, spit congealing on his face. He exchanges his amusement for a grimace. He meets every bit of her gaze with his own.