The noise outside Elyana’s room grew increasing louder as preparations for the feast were well underway. There still remained a couple of hours before her presence would be required but she knew that meant the inevitable – leaving the sanctuary of her room where she had holed up for the better part of the day. The day Grandmother Farra had set aside for all to remember.
Elyana would rather do anything than remember. Too much had taken place on this day. And this morning, it was all she could bear to accompany Grandmother and her cousins to the day-long rituals she had managed to avoid for so many years. But now that Kymberly gone, it was barely worth Grandmother’s wrath to sneak away while she visited the sept before all the chaos began. Or so she thought. They couldn’t have been twenty minutes into the ceremony at Sorrow Ridge when the overwhelming need to flee overcame Elyana. How could these people withstand this drudgery year after year?
If only her frustrations ended when she left the family at Sorry Ridge, but she furthered them when she met up with Hammond among the vendors. Upon inquiring of news of Kymber, Hammond had left her with no hope. Elyana was disappointed and her disappointment turned to resentment. With that disgusting excuse of a man removed from her father’s company, Kymber had no reason not to return. Elyana had gone to great troubles so her friend could be at her side again. How could Kymber not want that as well? A friendship like theirs was rare.
Elyana sat in her lounging chair, sipping her favorite Strongwine, savoring the blood colored nectar. She found herself retreating here more and more. Today had been especially taxing, and it wasn’t close to over.
A short but loud rap rang across her bedroom door. Elyana had been expecting it. Yes, Grandmother – the blasted feast. She took one final sip and sat her glass down, summoning all her emotional strength to face whoever was on the other side of the door to escort her to the feast. As she swung the heavy oak door open she was a little started to see two men unknown to her. The man on the left bore a sun pierced lapel pin, which Elyana gleaned instantly. The other wore the black and sand colors of House Yronwood. Just as she calculated that one must be none other than Quentin Martell, he spoke.
“Good evening, Lady Elyana. I am Ser Quentin Martell and this is my companion Ser Cransen Yronwood. Lady Farra requested Ser Cransen make your acquaintance and join you for the feast. I also need to see to another matter – you wouldn’t happen to know where I could find Desmond?”
“Most likely in his chambers, I would supposed,” as she motioned down the hallway. Quentin acknowledged and politely took his leave. Ser Cransen and Elyana stood in the doorway, sizing the other up. “How would you like a tour of our Keep, Ser Cransen?” Elyana offered to break the silence.
“That would be lovely.”