[Elora]

Ruiel held her daughter against her, pleased at Dryea's return to her senses and somewhat surprised all the same. When they parted, Ruiel held Dryea at arms length, a hand on each shoulder. She was wearing the mourning colours and that ring. Perhaps the change of heart was not all that it seemed, perhaps not. Dryea bore her mother's inspection silently, seemingly complacently.
Ruiel smiled in satisfaction and released her.

"Umbar is blessed to have daughters such as you, Dryea Morthaniawen." Ruiel turned and walked back to where a group of chairs sat around the hearth. She left the expectation that Dryea would follow behind her. Obedient, Dryea was seated soon after her mother.

"Have you eaten," Ruiel inquired. Dryea shook her head. Yes, the grief was deep. Still, that could be used. Ruiel passed her daughter a delicate china plate and then a platter of fruits.

"You will need your strength." Dryea looked at the food unconvinced and then dutifully took a spray of plump, sweet grapes from the platter. It went as far as her china plate and there remained untouched, and raised her pale face to meet her mother's speculative and considering gaze. Blue eyes turned with cunning thoughts were alight by the hearth that morning.

"You wished to speak with me, mother," Dryea prompted, wishing only to loose herself in service and feel nothing else. Ruiel nodded, as though she had agreed with herself and began.

"Word has reached me that you and Alethea had a disagreement last night..." Dryea leant back in her chair, eyes closing. "If word has reached me, then it will also have found other ears. I have not yet heard what words you exchanged..." Dryea opened her eyes and mouth to interceded but Ruiel held up her hand to forestall any word.

"And I will not ask for them," Dryea blinked in apparent surprise at her mother's uncustomary leniancy. "Disappointing? Yes... and I will speak to Alethea also this morning. Irreparable? I do not think so." Dryea watched her mother smile dangerously and then take a sip of the Khandese coffee from the nearby cup with a sinking heart. She barely recalled what she had said, but none of it was good for others to hear.

"This morning's tragedy could be our redemption." Succinctly, Ruiel went on to outline how Dryea would play the very public role of grieving betrothed. The news of the engagement had spread like wildfire. The more grief stricken and fragile she was, the more latitude would they be accorded. For example, who now would question Dryea closely over the disasterous bickering with Alethea now that Dryea was garbed in the melancholoy of death's pain.

The fact that Dryea was genuinely grieved, shadows of pain in her eyes, only made the cover all the more stronger.

"Weep delicately, faint even if you think it is necessary, but allow noone the chance to question you closely about matters of state, the Steward or your relationship with Alethea." Ruiel was clearly pleased with how it was all coming together. Rhir had been a millstone in life, but in death was a boon beyond all value.

"But what of Alethea?" Dryea's voice was faint. Yes, she'd do well as grieving widow... young love taken so soon in it's nadir of beauty... so unjustly... Few could withstand the depth of blackness of such grief long enough to extract the possibly damaging answers to uncomfortable questions. Furthermore, it offered an opportunity to plant more dissention under the cover of bereavement for those who briefly stopped by to pass on their condolences.

"I will ensure Alethea understands her part in this, daughter. Mark my words." There was an iron in her voice and face then. It was clear in that moment why Ruiel Morthaniawen had risen so far from such humble beginnings. Ruiel then rose and crossed to ring the taper and summon Rannë.

The maid appeared with alacrity, shooting a concerned and compassionate glance to where Dryea sat with her head bowed.

"Have the house adorned with the mourning swathes. Staff are to wear the black and ensure that all are ready to receive any guests. Have flowers arranged for the reception room and throw the gates open."

Rannë nodded as Ruiel fired instructions at her. Black taffeta swathes had to be installed on the front gates and the facade of the manor. Arm bands had to be found for the staff. Flowers had to be ordered from the flower merchants.

"And rouse Alethea and send her to me immediately! Inform me of any arrivals Rannë, any!"

Rannë curtsied and beat a hasty departure from her mistress, who seemed possessed by a strange energy. Ruiel turned back to where Dryea sat by the hearth.

"You will need your strength, daughter. Eat," she urged. Dryea mechanically plucked a grape between two fingers as Ruiel turned back to the larger arrangements.

"This will do more for us than anything I could have contrived. You have done Umbar proud, Dryea, and your mother."