Four hours and ten minutes later, the interviews stopped at the Council’s insistence. And now Brianna stood juggling a plate in her hand while pouring a strawberry cooler from an ice pitcher into a thermal container. She had been circulating for two hours, making apologies and accepting sympathetic condolences on her Mother, and through it all, she had kept her wits about her and portrayed the loving daughter of a Coven High Priestess. The afternoon interviews had been grueling; all thirty of them, sapping her energy as she did her best to be subtle in her questioning. Luckily, the members had been subtle as well. Though curious, they had maintained the proper perspective and answered each question honestly. Replacing the pitcher in the cooler, she glanced across the grass to a gathering of bodies. She hoped Devlin had gleaned more from his questions. Her interviews had garnered nothing concrete concerning her mother’s collapse. And if Devlin’s brought the same, she would have to admit that the sinner was far more devious than she imagined.
