Jhessail's dislike of Enastril only grows keener when she observes his disdain for her cousin. Well, let him be alone with his prejudice;<em>she</em>will set a different example. Jhessail smiles at Aysia and takes her arm, bringing her to the table with refreshments. “When we have the chance, you must tell me about your latest travels,” she says to her cousin. “I’ve been marooned at the palace for so long that I’ve quite forgotten what the outside world looks like. You must tell me everything.”<br/><br/>And then, decorum goes awry as Sianna does what Morwenna had not thought proper, embarrassing them in front of everyone. Jhessail embraces her half-sister with as much dignity as she can, though she wants to sigh heavily.<br/><br/>“I’m well enough, considering we are in mourning for grandfather,” she says, studying Sianna’s garb in turn. Does Sianna truly not understand why she is wearing black? That it has nothing to do with her mood or mimicking the weather, and everything to do with respecting the queen’s wishes for a month of mourning? “And you look like the clouds.” In Jhessail’s mind, Sianna is exactly like the clouds. Here one day, and gone the next. Serenely floating at one moment and at the next, racing with all speed towards the horizon. Ever inconstant, ever unfathomable.<br/><br/>“Master Aiven,” she says with a smile when greeted by her former mentor. The sight of him stirs memories of childhood lessons, of her listening intently and taking notes with quill and paper, and Sianna – well, just being Sianna. “What a pleasure to see you.”<br/>