Faeline could sense the disquietude. Immediately, she dropped the sentence. The pleasure is mine, she smoothly responded, turning away from the tall sire and facing the tourney's festivities.

Her eyes closed for a moment, and Faeline quietly sighed. Ragnar... I did not. I was invited by Persephone, though I admit... I'm not sure why. She chuckled. I've not been here for very long. For merely a few weeks ago, she was in another realm—at least, there was no other explanation that she could logically think of.

Faeline fell silent for another few seconds, her brows furrowing. My companion... she began, her lips pursing, he believes his children to be lost. Dead. Her tail coiled over her forepaws. Perhaps if she was sober, she would not be sharing such information with a stranger. Yet, I disagree. I know those two. I'd helped them. They... can't be dead.

Her head whipped to the side, and she scowled. Dimitri, if there's any chance that you could help me find them—any way at all. I would be forever indebted to you. Another sentence that she would be ashamed of once the effects of the berries wore off. But for now, there was no inhibition that the dame harbored—only determination to find Aedric and Morriva.