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Cerwyn
Cerwyn’s mood was not assuaged by Javan’s reassurances. They had all been too startled by her original revelation for Léof to have mentioned it at some point, and her anger at her brother continued to simmer, though she let herself be momentarily distracted by Javan’s question.
“No. He’ll be quite mad when he finds I’ve gone, if he hasn’t already heard,” she said. “So maybe you’ve not got the corner on roguishness at this table.” She attempted a grin, but even to her own ears the humor seemed flat. “As I said before, I’m hoping Léof and Father might finally forgive each other. Father’s better than he used to be, I think. But I also thought Léof would want to come home, if I gave him the chance, and I seem to have gotten that terribly wrong.”
~*~*~*~*~
Léof
With the fight between Rowenna and Saeryn over (or at least suspended), Léof finally felt safe to move again. He’d finished his soup, having been very keenly focused on it for the last several minutes, and he had no wish to linger at the table. It was past time for him to catch up with Cerwyn, anyway. Taking a piece of bread in hand, he stood up and scanned the Hall for his sister. He spotted her at the other end of the room, sitting with Javan, Garmund, and Cnebba, and headed in their direction.
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