“The I no wanna face.” Cora clarified with a grin. Reaching across the table she took Zoelyn’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “You can do this love. I know this is a lot of weight to put on your shoulders, but you are Delvay to the core. You may not care for shedding blood but that doesn’t mean you aren’t a fighter. Have faith in yourself.” Her voice was so encouraging that Zoelyn felt her shoulders relax in response.
Leaning back in her seat she turned the box absently in her hands and eyed the long line of puzzles before her. “He usually only sends three a day.” Zoelyn observed quietly. There were at least ten on the table and the bag by her mother looked as though it might have more inside.
“He wanted you to have plenty of practice to keep you entertained while your brother is away.” Cora returned, but her smile seemed a bit forced and Zoelyn could hear an edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before.
“He wanted me to be distracted you mean.” Zoelyn corrected gently and raised an eyebrow at her mother. “From what I wonder?”
“Such a suspicious mind.” Cora chided but the teasing seemed just as forced as her smile had been.
“Are you going to open a scry of the council?” Zoelyn asked sweetly never taking her gaze from her mother.
“Of course.” Cora answered and shook her head slightly. “I didn’t think you would want one so soon. The council isn’t due to start for over an hour yet.”
“None the less I’d rather not miss out on anything that is said just in case.” Zoelyn returned in the same sweet tones. She could see her mother’s unease growing, but she was doing a remarkable job of trying to hide it.
With a slight nod Cora brought her hands before her and spread her fingers. She mumbled under her breath and the air above the table shifted subtly. For a long moment it looked like nothing more than heated air resting inches above the wood, and then it solidified into colors that slowly coalesced to form the figures of the council seated in the massive hall of the Palace in Sanctuary.
Zoelyn’s eyes scanned hungrily over the assembled High Lords and lingered on Neph’s drawn face. His mouth was a tight line and he was staring pointedly at the empty chairs across the room from him. She saw him glance toward Jala who was seated several feet away under the banner of House Merrodin and his expression darkened. Her gaze moved back to the empty chairs and she studied the banner above the seats. “Morcaillo.” She whispered as she recognized the blue and silver banner with the twining snakes. Her attention moved past the sigil to sweep over the rest of the room and her unease grew as she noticed the empty spaces below the banners of Rivasa and Nerathane as well.
“It’s early yet.” Cora offered in a hesitant voice.
Frowning Zoelyn leaned toward the scry. She could see unease written clearly on the faces of several of the assembled High Lords, but not all of them seemed to be fixated on the empty chairs. Lord Arovan in particular had his gaze focused on the silent row of figures seated just behind the Empress’s dais. Zoelyn’s eyes narrowed as she studied the priestly robes. “Death, Love, Fortune, Elusion, and Healing. What a very odd assembly of priests.” She observed dryly as she noticed the Priest of Fortune tapping his leg. There was a definite rhythm to the motion of his fingers and she could almost hear the song in her head as she lifted her gaze to meet Cora’s face once more. “Why is my father masquerading as a priest of his own order?” she asked sternly. Cora shifted uncomfortably and Zoelyn’s expression darkened. “More importantly why is Finn seated there as well? Those are warrior’s boots peeking out from under the Priest of Death’s robes and I recognize them all too well.”
“What is coming must happen, Zoelyn. I told Fortune we should warn you, but he forbade it. Finn has commanded absolute silence on this matter.” Cora explained with heavy sigh that was laced with frustration.
“What is coming Mother?” Zoelyn demanded, but a soft rap at the door interrupted before Cora could answer. With a glare that warned her mother the discussion was not over Zoelyn rose from her seat. Anger warred with concern in her mind as she crossed to the door and pulled it open.
Syrah stood in the hall beyond with pursed lips and worry filling her grey eyes. The child had made a rough attempt at making herself presentable. Her long dark hair pulled back in a crooked braid with strands poking out in several places and her clothes were clean ones even if they didn’t match. Every inch of the child screamed of neglect in her father’s absence and Zoelyn silently scolded herself for not making sure Syrah had better care. Shifting nervously from foot to foot Syrah stared up at her and swallowed heavily.
All anger faded from Zoelyn as she considered the child’s expression and realized how she must have looked as she pulled the door open. “I’m sorry, Syrah. I must have looked like quite the ogre when you first saw me. I was having a disagreement with my mother, Sweety. It wasn’t your knock that was making me glower.” She explained gently as she dropped to a knee to tie the child’s boot lace.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Syrah offered in apology and shifted once more before meeting Zoelyn’s eyes. “I heard them say you would be watching the council today before they left the Great Hall.” She admitted softly. “Lord Valor seemed confused by your absence and Lady Jala said you couldn’t come, but you would be watching.” The girl’s voice was filled with nervousness and Zoelyn silently wondered how much Grim had warned her of the Undrae to create so much unease in his daughter.
“I will be.” Zoelyn agreed keeping her voice as gentle as possible. She didn’t want Syrah to fear her. She wouldn’t hurt any child no matter what kind of monster Grim seemed to believe she was.