[maikafanawen]

Pelion’s apartments were furnished stylishly with two sets of pale rose settees and magnificent drapes that reached the floor, coloured to offset the floral patterns in the furniture. A small table stood under each of the three large windows on which stood an elegant jar with two-dozen season flowers. It was not unlike the Morthaniawen parlor at the estate and Dryea found it easy to adjust to.

Upon entering she saw that Tiriel and Siriel had already arrived. Dryea had been disappointed early on that she was not able to form a close relationship with either like she had with some of the younger nobles. The reason for this evasion was seemingly clear in Dryea’s opinion: as daughters of the steward, they obviously saw themselves superior, therefore affectedly choosing their friends. Her mother had said this wasn’t entirely so but Dryea didn’t see any other rationale why not.

Though no one else had noticed, a faint, pleasing smile had crept onto Dryea’s face as she saw Siriel’s choice of gown: gold, very much like the gown Dryea had worn this morning though perhaps a slightly lighter shade. It was unwise in the lady’s opinion to be too outspoken so early after a ball. It would give people the wrong impression that one was trying to regain some of the attention one had lost the night before. However, Dryea had to admit at least silently to herself that Siriel did look particularly stunning this morning.

Now that she thought more clearly about it, Dryea wondered if Siriel and hers very slight animosity was known widely. She hoped not. Perhaps this luncheon would be a good time to make amends.

Dryea sat beside her mother silently at first until conversation was directed towards her. Then she would reply sociably instead of the stiff politeness usually employed by other noblewoman. The women gathered here were not strangers and once all had arrived, Dryea was sure that the tête-à-tête would be comfortable and personal feelings about the situation most eager to be discussed would be shared.