Riona said, stooping down to pick up pieces of broken pottery, having dropped the laver bowl when she opened the door to the bower. Bethoc still lay in bed, nude under the covers, remembering the night before. “No, Riona. I need rise and begin the new day.” She eased into to a sitting position, clutching the plaid bratt to her for modesty. “You have a glow about you in truth.” After laying the broken shards on a tray, Riona walked over to the large chest and pulled out two of Bethoc's dresses. “Riona, I am so merry.” “Glad I am for you, m'lady.” With a checkered tunic dress still draped over her arm, she handed Bethoc a blue underdress. “I knew not how you would feel about Malcolm's secret.” “Oh, Malcolm's secret?” Bethoc's body tensed at those two words. Hastily, she dropped the spread and pulled the underdress over her head. “I ken you may need to vary your own wants and needs to love a dark one? A man of the fey.” The Fey? Is Bethoc addled? Is she saying Malcolm comes from under hill?
