Wallace slowly stood up, wobbling uncertainly on his feet. The jostles of the night were getting to him already, frail as he was. The corpse still hurt to look at, and he turned his back on Lexine and the newcomer to stare back at Thomas and his assistants. "You can murder her too right? This time, we can sweep it under the rug without Cole and his theatrics," he smiled broadly even as he accused Thomas. His voice didn't have a hint of pleading in it as he suggested darkness to the man. The actual results of covering things up further were hazy, even to him, but that was the way he liked it. "The truth is, you're the one with secrets to keep, Morgan." Ones he hadn't quite found for himself yet. As he raced through his bluff, he thought over to the palace and wondered what was happening there. Gareth hadn't come running along like he half hoped and the nosey Lyoki who'd found the body the first night was absentee as well. It only suggested that the Order had beat him on both punches.

As he spoke, the girl at the far end of the table started to make her way around. Slow, heavy footsteps as she left Lexine's body behind. Her hands came up to her throat unfastening the buckle at the neck of her gray-blue cloak. The cloak was tossed aside, flying with the arc of a much heavier garment and crashing down on the table's surface with a series of vaguely metallic thuds. Underneath, she was apparently unarmed, sporting a buttoned shirt and pants worn over her boots, the same styling as the set that had accompanied Lexine. Silence prevailed for the stranger, and she stopped halfway down the room to continue watching the quartet of men entering the room with a quizzical, evaluating glare. Something far more important than her business was happening, that alone was clear.