You squeeze the priestess’s hand gently and nod. “It’s all right,” you say. What else can you say? “Everything will be all right.” Oh, that’s better. More honest. You only remove your hand once you’re sure she won’t fall to pieces without it. So now it’s time to deal with the Duchess.

It’d be much neater if you had a plan, don’t you think? Yes, much neater. Or maybe something that needed to happen to stop your vision from happening. Or maybe it’s supposed to happen and attempting to fight against it will only bring ruin. And by wind and flower, don’t even think of asking the Duchess if she’s plotting against Uther.

“Your grace,” you say, delicately. “I apologize for my outburst; the vision came over me strongly. The sight of the black and silver standing against the unicorn... it was so terrible that I lost myself.” Not just the fighting, of course, but the dire implications. “It may still be averted, I think, if we are wise...”

You study the duchess not out of suspicion but out of instinct. Only a fool of an apprentice blinds herself to the world around her, and you have grown up, yes, look at you. How your eyes linger on her neck, her gaze, the grip of her fingers upon the chair. But is there anything to be read there, daughter of rivers?

[Marvelous! You have rolled a [b]6[/b]. So tell us, Marianne, [i]what do you intend to do?[/i]]