[maikafanawen]

It was a quarter of an hour until tea when Ruiel joined her oldest daughter in the garden. She had changed as well into a comfortable brocaded gown of a black and gold combination and moved easily through the flowerbeds to where Dryea sat reading, shaded by her parasol.

“Hello daughter,” she said pleasantly. Dryea raised an eyebrow at her mother’s newfound geniality. “I have finally figured out the ingredient Aunt Idella uses in that poison powder of hers.” Dryea looked at her vacantly. “You know, the one that looks like ordinary salt? Anyhow, it’s the best sort. It triggers the moment the victim falls to sleep making it look entirely unobtrusive.” Ruiel seemed so pleased with herself, Dryea decided to keep things on an even level and not to upset her.

“Would you care to have tea outdoors this afternoon?” Dryea posed indifferently. Ruiel acquiesced and Alethea was summoned to join them and the slight repast was served. The three exchanged opinions on the fluidity of the luncheon. All together they were very pleased with the outcome and didn’t have any worries.

“How did you find Pelien’s daughter, Alethea?” Ruiel asked innocuously. Unaware that the two had spoken at all during the luncheon, Dryea faced her younger sister as she spoke.

“She was decent enough,” Alethea replied halfheartedly. “We seem to have a lot in common.” The youngest Morthaniawen took a sip at her tea, hoping that would be the extent of that topic.

“Adrama?” Dryea pursued. “I didn’t notice the two of you canvassing. What could she possibly have to talk about?”

“Enough to stifle an hour and a half of pointless talk between the older ladies,” Alethea said coarsely. “She’s really a very pleasant girl.” Dryea narrowed her eyes and leaned back, abandoning her tea as she lashed back at her sister.

“Of all the ladies you could have chosen as an ally you pick her!” she fumed, trying not to yell so loudly. “You could have done some good by choosing someone of higher influence! Getting Adrama to spread rumors is about as pointless as—well everyone knows of her infatuation with Denethor so no one will take her seriously.”

“You’re one to speak of allies, Dryea. What good is Rhir to our cause?” Dryea froze, immeasurable vehemence written on her face. She looked nervously at her mother whose eyes were becoming an angry dark shade then back at Alethea. The last thing she had ever expected was for Alethea to speak degradingly of Rhir in front of Ruiel. Their mother hated him for his interference in their plot and would probably do anything to dispatch of him. Every bit of discredit she could find, Ruiel threw at Dryea trying to persuade her to break their escalating relationship.

Dryea glared at Alethea who sat smugly in her chair, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Alethea,” Ruiel began slowly and deliberately. “You have brought up a very important point.” Dryea sat petrified in her seat, her cup in her right hand held above her saucer in paralyzed apprehension.