Shadow of a Doubt


The Year 1472, Six Years Later

The numbers of the Cult of Thieves had dwindled. It wasn't significant, but it was enough to notice. Older members began to notice their mortality with age and reluctantly retired from the work. But their decrease in numbers was mostly due to a plague that swept through the port city. Windfeld suffered heavy losses both in the common folk and the nobility. For an entire year the nobles had their gates closed and locked and guarded from the other side safe from the greater onslaught. Their sicknesses were dealt with far more quickly as they kept their best physicians tucked away within their walls. Only just a few months prior did they open their gates back up again with a fresh new hiring spree to compensate for the losses of hired help.

Three years before they had lost Jensen, the Cult's Organizer, to a Tainted. The job was supposed to be an easy one, and yet it proved fatal for the man that had the greatest impact on Sothal's life. He took to drinking, to which he imbibed in heavier quantities with each passing year. It became a common stench to smell musty liquor permiating every fiber Sothal carried. Sometimes he smelled of vomit. The man was not an attractive sight, but despite whatever length of inebriation he could still perform his duties passed on to him from Jensen. For the most part, anyway, for Sothal was sure to refrain from getting completely wasted until a job was done.

He sat within the expanse of the Cult of a Thieves headquarters known as the Underbelly with a bottle of port resting upon one of the tables. In his hand he read through a journal by candlelight, his feet propped up in one of the other chairs as he lazily sat back. It was one of the few days he had the Underbelly all to himself. There wasn't much work in the way of the self-defined "Greater Good" apart from the usual espionage. They had already solved the case of the plague having the trail link back to neglegence on the part of a noble. It was always a noble.

And now that Shadow Magic was on the rise once again, he began to see if the growing army would dip its fingers into Faledrin just as it had so long ago.
 
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She went by a new name, these days. Admittedly, it was no easy adjustment, but it had been necessary. Even now, six years since she had been sworn into the Cult, she still had to remind herself of the changes made, of the importance behind them. A lot had changed within the Cult, too... and adjustment, it seemed, was a difficult step for all of them.

Sothal remained the only member to know her true identity, and in so many ways, it was that knowledge he possessed that made him so important to her. Of course, there were other reasons... but much like her name, some details she safeguarded for the good of their life's mission.

These days... it was a mission that seemed a little fuzzy around the edges. And more importantly, it seemed a mission that centered around those in the noble district. More and more, what they did trickled down into Windfeld in worse and worse ways, and the Cult seemed to be the only ones who could do much about it.

She found him where he often was, Sothal, leafing through a journal - unsurprisingly, a bottle lay but a few feet away. Alcohol had become a near constant companion for him, but they all had their vices, she supposed. In many ways, he was hers. He and the other members. As her own was buried in her past, the Cult had become her family and there was little use denying it... She cared too much for them. But in as much as it could be a hindrance, it was also what drove her.

Quietly, she stepped up behind his chair, "That horrible Dewalt woman cut wages for her staff again. She needed perfume. Apparently. Penny's little one is half starved, but Maker forbid Dewalt not have scents for her bath water..."

 
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At the sound of her voice he instinctively set both feet on the ground to open up a space at the table for Cordelia to take. He motioned to the now empty chair and set the journal down upon the table top open to a particular entry. He had marked it with a crow feather down the fold where sprawling letters depicted a scene in beautiful cursif. The handwriting was far too delicate and beautiful to be anywhere close to Sothal's hand, and it noted a woman of high birth and educated upbringing. He motioned to the page for Cordelia to read, and waited to speak once she was done.

Entry 63, Volume 16
She came by again, that woman. Of course she had to talk to my darling Mr. Altrey, and so informally! If you recall from Entry 48, this woman is the very same who wisked Mr. Altrey away just as he was going to ask me to Lady Faraday's party! She is old! I swear she is just as old as mother.

I watched from my window as she talked to him in the Esther Gardens just out to the left. It was a rather intimate conversation by the looks of it, and it overwhelmed me with jealousy! I had to go out and give her a piece of my mind. Mr. Asterly only desires me I am sure of it!

She caught me with those nasty blue eyes, and by the time I made it past the spruces she was gone. Mr. Asterly just smiled at me and I felt my heart flutter. I lost all sense of inclination or rage and we had quite the lovely conversation. He wishes to see me again in the morrow.

"Like Lady Polatre," Sothal began, "Lady Dewalt likely has her sights elsewhere. Perfume and scented oils means she is preparing to meet up with a potential suitor, and at her age she needs to do so soon."

Leaning forward, the excitement of a new case invigorated Sothal, and he flipped back a few entries in the journal as he continued. "Now, according to Lady Polatre's log, Lady Faraday's party is coming up soon," he said. "But due to the subject matter, I didn't want to bring this up with the rest of the Cult."

With that, he looked over at Cordelia cautiously, studying her features and expression through the soft buzz of alcohol. The scent was still heavy on his breath and clothes as if he had been bathing in the drink rather than imbibing. "I'm fairly certain it wasn't you who was talking to Mr. Asterly," he said. "And I feel certain Mr. Asterly will be around this party should you wish to pursue this. It's a garden party. More social and less dancing. There would be no hiding away once you're there."
 
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Sinking into the chair, Cordelia frowned as she looked over the journal. It struck her as amazing, the things that noble women invested their time and energy into. It would have driven her mad to exist on such shallow, vapid terms. To care so much about wasteful nonsense, when the world around them was falling to pieces. To afford no compassion to a dying community, but instead focus all of their attention on preening like idiot birds.

As she read on, however, the frown deepened and straightening up a little, Cordelia met Sothal's gaze, blinking. Those nasty blue eyes. "Subject matter..." Looking back down at the pages, she traced a fingertip over those words, shaking her head, "It might not... It... it's possible it's just a..."

But it wasn't. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, where she filed away her most dangerous, damaging thoughts, Cordelia knew it wasn't a coincidence. It was the one thing that she had inherited from her mother, apart from her magic. And if her mother was, indeed, at play in Faledrin, well... It wasn't good.

Breathing out, she turned her eyes up again, "I wish to, yes. But I know nothing about these things, Sothal. I... I can't go alone. I'd never get passed the gate."

 
The bottle of port rested well in Sothal's hand, and he took a few swings from its lips before setting it back down on the table. He reached back for the journal, flipping through the pages slowly as he glanced over the words. At this point he had already read the entirety of the noblewoman's ramblings from front to back and ventured through it a second time. It was always good to read through documents for clues, but it was better to do it sober. He could already tell it took him a few repeated sentences before it registered that he was reading. When he sat back in his seat and looked over at Cordelia, he felt like his movements were in water and held back.

"You don't need me," he said encouragingly. "Besides, I think my presence would be more of a hinderance. Everyone would be focused on me and in turn focused on you. Not exactly subtle work, is it?"

The action of drinking was becoming more involuntary as time went on. He would thoughtlessly bring the bottle up to his lips and tip it just enough for a sip. The motion was repeated just as blankly as he contemplated the possible mission. There was enough to investigate the matter.

"What about Quinn?" he asked. "I'm sure if we gussied him up enough he could pass for a noble. Well, a Baladuri equivalent. And you a Thall Lady. Hmm... your eyes. Think we should hide them? Veils are all the rage in West Edros."
 
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Frowning delicately, Cordelia stared at the back of the journal. It was all too possible she was making more of what it said than she meant to, but if she wasn't, things were headed swiftly towards complicated territory. Her mother had never been kind. She had trained Cordelia more akin to a dog than her daughter, and left no room for argument or reason. She was everything about the Shadow that Cordelia was terrified of, given over to the corruption, without hesitation.

There had been a time after she had disappeared that Cordelia had been so sure she was dead. But her father had informed her otherwise only a few years prior, and the notion had given Cordelia nightmares for months. It seemed at least logically speaking, if she had returned, she didn't mean well… Cordelia certainly wasn't anticipating a tearful,touching reunion.

Sothal spoke and she nearly jumped, turning that frown on him, “Quinnis? Sothal… I can't... “ Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shook her head, “If it's really her… The doors that might open? The questions he might have…?”

But it wasn't really the heart of the issue. In truth, she could have told Quinn everything and it wouldn't matter. She trusted him, but at the end of the day she could also just remove any unintentional memories from his mind and be no worse for it.

But this was so intensely personal…

“The thing is, I do need you on this one, Sothal… You… You're the only one who knows who I was, before...”Her voice sounded small in her own ears and her eyes stung as she looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, “If it's her… If she's returned… I understand if you don't want to draw unnecessary attention to yourself. If you'd rather not be seen with me, we could arrive separately…”

 
A small smirk gently curled the corner of his lips, more endearing rather than amused. And so it remained faintly so as he leaned forward to look at Cordelia with a contemplative gaze, eyes slightly narrowing in a thought as he studied her. It had been six years since she joined the Cult of Thieves, and each year he grew closer to her like all the rest. But there was something different with Cordelia that made their friendship a little more keen. He personally invested a little more time with her than he would likely admit to provide her with a safety net both within the Cult and with her magic. Those who knew of her true name and history were dwindling as Cult members retired or died out, and so he felt partially bound by duty. The friendship between them handled all the rest.

"Very well," Sothal said in return. "We'll attend separately, though. Figure out a background for yourself. We can get Chambliet to put you on the list before Lady Faraday notices, I'm sure. If we arrive separately then it may lessen the attention you could potentially receive. You'll be able to poke about a bit better."

But then another thought struck him. Sothal leaned back in his seat, hand reaching out for the bottle of port to play with it in thought. The glass base rolled at the angle he held it and mulled over the options before spitting them out to Cordelia. "You being at my side would provide you with a bit of security, though," he said. "You would be able to question without the lords and ladies questioning your presence. What do you think? Do you think you could handle yourself on your own for the event?"
 
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She'd been expecting a dismissal. Not because Sothal was inconsiderate or lacked compassion, but because at the end of the day he knew what was best for the organization than most. If he thought she might be better off attending with someone else it was ultimately going to prove true…

But she had hoped he might reconsider. She felt safest with him. He knew her… Knew what her deepest fears were, and this mission touched so close to that, that to be without him was of great concern. There was so little of her life she entrusted to the others… It wasn't safe to change that, now.

She hadn't expected him to change course, however, so it surprised her when rather suddenly he did. He had a way about him, Sothal did, of making her feel secure on the team while still making it abundantly clear he wasn't about to throw her to the wolves. It was immensely encouraging how he made it feel like her choice…

Sitting back, Cordelia smiled faintly, nodding at his question with her confidence restored, “I believe so, but why would I pass up the opportunity to enter on the arm of a Prince? Your way makes more sense…”

 
He nodded his head slowly at that, his mind lost in planning the entire event. Having Cordelia at his side would cause a social stir, but everyone knows he is to eventually be wed to someone of note. His father had tried to negotiate such endeavors for him with other Kingdoms, all of which are still too hesitant to tie themselves to such a lowly kingdom as Faledrin. Their fortune was small and founded in socially unsavory professions, particularly whaling. No royal house wanted to sign their daughters away to the stench without good cause. His father's efforts to build a better nation fell quite short, but that was not to say he would not have a potential suitor he would need to take about the gallentries of Faledrin's nobility.

"How much do you know of Edros?" Sothal inquired before taking a small sip of port. "I'm thinking perhaps a Lady of Bastillos? Or an heiress of Dradmida. They have your complexion. But those two in particular would allow you to cover your eyes if you'd like and no one question it. Their headdresses have those veils."

He swooped his hand over his eyes for emphasis on the veil. "But it's also not necessary. That is up to you and how much exposure to questioning you would like. We've been trying to open trade with Edros since Dradmida borders the Glassy Sea as well. It would be a good cover for you."
 
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"I know a thing or two... and I can study up on it, as much as possible until the party. As for the veil, it's probably for the best... at least until we've managed to establish if she is, indeed, in Faledrin. If she's there and she recognizes me..." Cordelia had no real way of knowing what her mother might do if they were to meet again, but she had to think if the woman had never made an attempt to return, never tried to contact Cordelia, she wasn't interested in a heartfelt reunion...

Keeping out of sight was for the best, and it would make for a much easier method of deception, as well as an explanation as to why she... a complete stranger, was appearing on the crown prince's arm. She knew Sothal wasn't one to typically attend functions if he had the choice, knew the great lengths he was going to, to help her...

"I'll need a dress." She mused, with a small smile. Her usual wardrobe wasn't unattractive by any means, but it certainly wasn't appropriate for an event on the other side of the wall.

Rising from her seat, she looked down at the journal again and the smile twitched away, "I know I don't have to say it... that this is as much for the Cult as it is for me, but thank you, Sothal. It's not easy for me to admit when I need help, but I can't... I can't face her alone. Whatever's happening... I'll be glad to have you by my side."

 
A dress fit for an Edrosi noble was an easier feat than anticipated. His sister, Alyse, had returned to Faledrin for a diplomatic visit. She had married into the royal house of Dradmida, though still too lowly for their father's liking. It was a start as good as any for an alliance which opened up much needed trade. And yet after a year of this new allegence the common citizen had yet to witness its fruits. The endeavor continued to line the pockets of Faledrin's wealthy.

It was good to see Alyse, and she seemed a lot happier in her new life. The colors of her gown in sandy and golden hues gave her a vibrancy within the gloomy grays of Windfeld that made her an oddity, especially before Sothal and his drab and dingy attire.

"What are you up to this time?" she asked as she laid a dress of deep blues and bright silvers upon her bed. Sothal studied it thoughtfully as he tried his best to imagine Cordelia in the dress.

"I am attending Lady Faraday's party," he stated simply.

"You wear dresses now?" she asked curiously.

"No, this would be for my plus one."

Alyse placed the headdress and veiled circlet next to the dress with care, her slow movements suggestive of contemplation. He almost didn't want to address what he knew she was thinking, but she prompted, to which he could not ignore. "What are you up to, Emrys?" she asked again, though with more earnest and a hint of concern. "A lady would have her own dress for such occasion, and you don't even like parties."

"Please don't get involved," he suggested, and then picked up the dress to picture it better. It was a tad bit lengthier than would suit Cordelia's stature, but the rest may fit, he thought.

"After all we've gone through," she said. "I'm lending you one of my dresses, Emrys, I deserve to know at least who is going to be using it and why it has to be Edrosi. There are plenty of Fallenite gowns I'm no longer using."

She was a keen woman and always had been. In their youth he always felt a bit inferior to her and thought she would have been named their father's successor in the end. But she knew she had to be married off, and she was better for it. It likely made her even more keen now that she didn't have the weight of Faledrin's gloom constantly on her mind. Despite him never admitting to it, he knew she figured out he was part of the Cult of Thieves.

"Edros has a particular look," he stated simply in response. "And it only makes sense if I show up with someone no one knows to be from a place where they don't know everyone."

"Well," she said thoughtfully, and pulled out a more colorful garment to lay upon the bed as well. Sothal placed the blue dress down to gander at the other piece. It was of jeweled tones in emerald with accents of red along a soft gold. It was as elegantly crafted as the other, and fit for high status, though this was more adorned with gems and metal. "Bastillos also has its fair share of pretty attire meeting your wants. Veil and everything."

"May I borrow both?" Sothal asked. "So she can choose."

"As long as I get both back in one piece," she said in return.



The day of the party Sothal had Cordelia smuggled into the castle. There was only one route, and it took days to clear it by fandangling with scheduling enough for a few minutes of clearance. But it was imperative they both come from the castle grounds together. The king was clueless to the endeavors, at least for now. Talk of a foreign noble would at first sound like his sister until someone further pried into the matter, but by that point the party would long be over and Cordelia returned to Windfeld's commons.

He had given her a room sanctioned for guests and set her up as if she were just that. The servants were none the wiser, though likely gossiped about the newcomer in their lower wing away from the ears of royal and noble. Not even his sister was aware Cordelia presided within the castle grounds.

The two Edrosi gowns were placed upon her own bed within the lavish guest quarters for Cordelia to choose from. Mirrors and jewelry and rouge were at her disposal as well as a tray of fruits, per custom. Sothal gave her time to prepare before knocking upon her door.

"It's me," he announced.
 
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Over those few days prior to the party, Cordelia had spent far too much time studying Edrosi, and despite the wealth of knowledge in her mind, she was still sure she would make a fool of herself, somehow. She had set about testing herself, having the other Cult members (much to their confusion and chagrin) test her. The simple fact was, she needed to do well at this, to get the answers... any answers she could. If there were even answers to be had...

But she had not expected that this would be the least of her worries.

It was all too much. The gowns and jewelry. The face paint and oils and luxury in every corner of the room. Even the damnable fruit made her feel entirely out of sorts. She had bathed as well as she could before she'd come to the palace - the water had been unbearably cold and slightly salty, but she had managed to steal a bar of soap from the inn and had crushed up wildflowers and herbs to mask the scent of the ocean. She had picked the dirt from her nails, scrubbed her hair until her scalp hurt... In the end she figured herself presentable, but whether she would measure up to a real noblewoman was indeed the question.

Of the two gowns, both of which she was terrified to touch, she had eventually chosen the blue - figuring she might feel less out of place in a color she preferred to wear naturally. It wasn't natural, though... none of it. She was a fish among birds, and no measure of feathers sealed to her scales was going to make it any less apparent. She hadn't wanted help, too afraid of saying the wrong thing to a servant to dare risk their attention, but getting into the thing had proven more hassle than she'd anticipated.

In the end, she'd found herself in the middle of the floor, the dress a heap at her feet, one shoe on, the other hurled across the chamber, hair a mess of curls down her back, with tears leaving streaks along her cheeks. At the knock, she jumped and looking up, sniffled softly, "...I'm not ready."

 
The slight tin to her voice noted unmistakable distress. Sothal shifted his weight as he stood outside her door, unsure of what to do and how to proceed. It had been a sufficient amount of time to prepare, or so he thought. He hadn't anticipated the endeavor to bring Cordelia to tears, but he heard the little sniffle through the sturdy wooden door. It was now a debate as to whether or not to enter and offer help or to seek out help elsewhere. Both of the options seemed uninticing to him, especially given the entire circumstance from all angles.

"I'll be in my quarters, then," he said back to her a bit hesitantly. As he turned away, he halted still with too much uncertainty in how to proceed.

"Is everything alright?" he asked. "Is there anything you need or... are lacking? Can I perhaps be of assistance?"

It all felt a bit out of his league. He had grown up in this life yet had no understanding of a woman's affairs in most matters.
 
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Feeling stupid - stupider, still, for having fallen apart the way she had, Cordelia shuffled the dress out of the way and tore off the other shoe before rising to her feet. She pulled open the door and stepped back, bearing no mind to her current state of dress or distress as she gestured to the pile on the floor, swiping with her free hand at her cheeks.

"I can't do it! I can't get it on! I've tried and there's just... there's all these ties and bows and strings and the shoes... I've never... I don't usually... And what am I supposed to do with this??" Her fingers tangled through her hair and she shook her head in disgust, "I've seen the way they wear it, Sothal! All elegant and refined! I'm a mess... a horrible mess and they'll see through it in a minute."

Stepping back, hands on her hips she heaved a sigh as she turned away from him, "Why did I think I could do this? Be this person? How am I supposed to pretend to be some foreign lady when I can't even put on a damn dress? I'm trash... Worse than it, and they'll know. Everyone will know."

 
"You're going to have to get over this," Sothal stated flatly. He walked into the room without ceremony, mind on the task at hand as he took to it with apathy. He picked up the shoes and gathered the fabrics to place upon the bed gently. "If you honestly think you can't do this then I'll go alone."

"That's no way to talk to a lady," Alyse said as she entered the room. She frowned disapprovingly at her brother who did not seem phased by the reaction. He pointed over to the borrowed dress in a heap in silent presentation. Alyse walked over to Cordelia after deducing the scene on her own, her lips adorning a warm and welcoming smile.

"Darling, let me take a look at you," Alyse said as she stood before her. They were almost the same height and build, though the princess was noticeably taller. She circled Cordelia slowly until she honed in on her hair. "Hm. This is... Well, it will take some work, but my handmaidens are the best Dradmida has to offer. Don't let Emrys ruin this for you. I'm more than happy to actually help."
 
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He was right. He was right and no matter how it hurt to hear him say it, she couldn't argue. And she might have said as much, but before she could, another unfamiliar voice interjected. Looking up, with a start, Cordelia stepped back as the woman entered.

It didn't take long, however, to place her. Emrys was a name she'd only heard in one other place… Sothal’s mind, when first she had read him. It was his real name… and one she had never heard spoken outside of his memories. This, undoubtedly, was his sister…

Looking briefly past her, to Sothal, she frowned delicately. There was, after all, an act to play and if she knew anything it was the importance of staying in her role, “I'm sorry, Your Grace. I realize how this must look. It's just… the journey was so long and I'm so very tired. So-- Prince Emrys was kind enough to lend me a dress. We were come upon by bandits on the road and my trunk was stolen. I was terribly embarrassed to admit, and oh so frightened after the fact. Still shaken, it seems. He has been an absolute gentleman… But I'm afraid I may have exhausted his patience, after all. Some help would be greatly appreciated.”

Her cheeks slightly flushed, she lowered her gaze with the humble regard of a dignified noblewoman, “I'm Gema. Of the House of Carthinia. It's a small house… We're not much, but Prince Emrys was kind enough to invite my father and me. He… he was taken ill and couldn't come, but he sent me in his place. It's my first journey beyond Edros… Incidentally, I'm not doing so well.”

 
Alyse delicately placed her hands upon Cordelia's arms to maneuver her over to the long upright mirror nearby. It was of a sturdy make, yet looked rather simple for a furnishing in a castle. It fit a common motif around all the upper echelon in Faledrin: they aren't as rich as they make themselves to be. It was clear even in Alyse's marriage into the royal house of Dradmida could not bring them to the lavish standards of even their allies. As much as the nobility and royalty seemed to hoard the wealth of the land, there didn't appear to be much to go around to begin with. It was a silent story of why the common folk were so impoverished under a king that was more of a dictator by each year. Alyse stood out in her Dradmida finery embellished in crystals and bright colors that defined her eerie beauty as more soft.

"I will take good care of you," she promised as she collected Cordelia's locks within her slinder hands thoughtfully. She had always wanted a sister and was so fascinated with hair to the point where she would want to play and braid that of her handmaidens'.

"Far better than Emrys," she continued in jest. Sothal kept his distance in a steely demeanor, clearly uncomfortable with his sister's presence and persistence. But insisting she leave would only raise suspicions, and Cordelia was more than adept to hold her own after all these years.

"I will leave you to it," Sothal said almost mechanically and devoid of any expressive tonality.

"Go fetch Marissa for me," Alyse said with a wave of her hand to prompt him out the door. Sothal looked to Cordelia before he made his way to the door, casting her a look of warning though not having the opportunity to explain just why. His sister waited until he was out the door before speaking to Cordelia once again.

"Where are you from, Gema?" she asked. "And how in all the stars did you manage to garner Emrys's attention so? The King has tried his best to find a suitor and he's driven them all away. I was beginning to think perhaps he wasn't all that interested in becoming king himself one day. Wait, is this political or... is it personal?"
 
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The flood of emotion had been, in retrospect, quite foolish. Cordelia was a member of a dangerous and important organization and what they were doing was not only important to her, but to what they were trying to do in Faledrin. But if she were perfectly honest with herself, she knew the reason for her dramatic reaction, and while she'd never speak it aloud, she had hoped... desperately, that she might, if only for a moment, be something impressive... not just for what she could do with her magic.

Alyse was sweet and kind, doting, and surprisingly so for a princess, but Sothal seemed anxious and Cordelia understood all too well why he might be. She had been caught unaware and had hardly had time to consider what her backstory might be. She hadn't expected to meet any of his family, and certainly not in so intimate a setting. But he dismissed himself, regardless, with a glance of warning and there was some thought that maybe... just maybe it was because he trusted her to handle things on her own.

As she stared into her reflection, she frowned softly, but Alyse didn't seem phased by her lack of poise or plainness - she set to work immediately, and Cordelia was grateful for it...

Then the questions began. Cordy thought that they might, but had not anticipated it to come so quickly. Blinking, she looked up again and could see color flood her cheeks at the insinuation. Yet, why else would she be there? What possible reason would Sothal... Emrys have for making her his guest.

"...Ah... it's complicated." She answered, hoping Alyse didn't notice she hadn't answered the initial question, in light of Cordelia's honesty... or at least as honest as she dared, "I care for him. He's a dear friend, Emrys. And he has been kind to our family. In such, I can imagine his... hesitancy towards your father wishes are not in any way a reflection of his desire to rule. He will make a wonderful king, some day. But I expect he means to do so by his own rights."

 
An airy laugh escaped Alyse at Cordelia's commentary, but made no indication of prying further. Her handmaiden, Marissa, eventually came into the room, bowing deeply at the pair before inquiring into whatever task Alyse had planned out for her.

"Help me with Gema, here," she said as she guided Cordelia to the vanity stool. "She's traveled a long way and is unfamiliar with Faledrin and our ways, and so we shall help her find familiarity!"

Marissa approached Cordelia and carefully assessed the woman's hair with her thin fingers. The handmaiden made no commentary, but confusion could be seen in the reflection of the mirror as her brows pushed together in thought. Alyse's entire appearance was regal and clean, her dark hair pulled back in thick braids that were sleek and groomed. It was a contrast comparatively, but one that did not seem to phase Alyse in the slightest.

"You look from Edros," she said as she sat next to the vanity. It gave her a vantage point to give Marissa command. "I think it's the eyes. I've only ever seen eyes like that in Edros."

Marissa began to delicately comb through Cordelia's locks, her hand collecting sections with care so as not to pull on the roots. Alyse provided her with any distractions through conversation. "You should have been assigned a servant to help you dress," she said. "I apologize for that. Emrys doesn't understand a woman's needs, and you have my permission to berate him for it! Marissa will help you every step of the way, and I'll be here as well. Do you want a particular look? Bear in mind, the air can get thick with moisture sometimes during the day. I would hate to see you suffer a stroke. Perhaps maybe pinning the hair up and away from your neck?"
 
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If she were perfectly honest, Cordelia might have confessed that it felt nice, for once, to be pampered. She had grown up with one foot in the gutter, and it was only their family's history with thieving which kept the other foot out, so to be catered too, even in an act so simple as having her hair brushed, was nearly too much for her to wrap her mind around.

"You really are too kind, Princess.", She cooed, with a nod. She had been asked by Sothal if she could handle this task and in truth, she hadn't been sure until that moment, until that brush began it's way through her hair. The pampered elite had no idea what those beneath them endured, day in and day out... and it was high time she understood that there were consequences for treading over so many helpless people to stay out of the mud.

But it was the sobering thought that there were people in the city suffering, while servants brushed the hair of their masters, and dressed then, and cowed to their every whim that pulled her back into a place of perspective. This was what they were fighting for. This was what they were trying to fix, trying to undo - and if that meant she had to brush her own hair? So be it... Of course, for now, she could hardly say as much, and so she acquiesced to the ministrations, knowing with a doubt she'd hear it from Sothal, later...

"It's not Emrys's fault. I admit, I was feeling a bit out of my element, and I declined the offer. Clearly, a mistake, given I'm a total disaster." Chuckling softly, she folded her hands in her lap, "It's not at all what I'm used to, Faledrin. I didn't expect to feel so homesick, but I confess I don't travel well. Honestly, if it weren't for your brother, I'm sure I would be perfectly miserable." Looking to Elyse, she smiled, "Up would be nice."