(no subject)
Seilan closes the door to the children's room softly behind her. Both are asleep. It should give her an hour or so to herself. She moves through the house with something less than her normal grace -- her swelling belly is making her awkward -- and settles into a chair in the parlor.
In her husband's office lie a few letters that look innocent enough, tucked between a few pieces of correspondence already dealt with. Seilan knows Fiorn's habits, and has made sure to put them where he will not notice them. She tries not to wonder what is written in them. After his last visit, and his treatment of Mien . . .
Well. If she is doubtful about her part in all this, she knows enough to keep her thoughts to herself.
In her husband's office lie a few letters that look innocent enough, tucked between a few pieces of correspondence already dealt with. Seilan knows Fiorn's habits, and has made sure to put them where he will not notice them. She tries not to wonder what is written in them. After his last visit, and his treatment of Mien . . .
Well. If she is doubtful about her part in all this, she knows enough to keep her thoughts to herself.