Cam's collar seemed too tight that day, chafing at his neck. He'd been alarmed at the letter, troubled by the information given, and now was dreading having to meet with this "Royal Courtier." It was highly unusual for someone from the court to acknowledge the Beldam's existence, let alone take the trip out of Skia to see it in person. He and his father and his grandfather before him had operated with full power and minimal supervision; the prospect of an interested party close to the royal court was unprecedented.

He tried to tell himself that this could be a good thing, that this could mean that the legacy of his family was changing for the better. Instead of being a lineage that lurked in the shadows, perhaps all the newfound attention would bring honor to the Pyetr name, perhaps even resulting in accolades and a higher position in court . . .

He wasn't doing a great job of convincing himself.

The house had been put in its best order. Lessons were cancelled or moved to rooms that weren't on the pathway between the front door and Cam's office. Leiser was Cam's top man at the Beldam, but he was old and creepy-looking, so Cam had had a pleasant-faced female instructor lead the courtier to his office. The floors were cleaned, candles were lit, and Cam made his way to his own office appraising the walk--perhaps the Beldam could be mistaken for nothing more than a slightly chilly old castle by the visitor, a harmless home for the elderly and the mentally unstable. That was the reputation it was supposed to have on the street, after all.

"M'lady," Cam said, pushing into his office briskly with a distracted smile, as if coming from some fun and engaging activity with the residents. The fire was lit, the bottle of whiskey full. This was the room where he saw non-residents, and it was a welcoming enough office, with a huge wooden desk, cushioned chairs for visitors, tapestries on the wall, and a window overlooking the cliff behind the castle. "Forgive my delay."

He strode quickly to get behind his desk to put it between himself and her. "I hope your journey from Skia was comfortable? We don't get many visitors up here at the Beldam."

The first thing Nithya noticed once the female instructor had opened the front door, was that Beldam was much cleaner than she had expected. She had prepared herself for rats running along the walls and dark hallways, but the floors were clean and bright, as far as candles could light hallways with little to no windows. Still, it reminded her of a ruin, in a way. Perhaps because she had a general idea of what was happening deeper within the walls of the big building.

The instructor had opened the door to Cam's office for her, but wouldn't step inside. Instead she waited near the door, outside of the office, for Cam to arrive. She would make sure Nithya remained in the office and didn't sneak out to wander around Beldam. Not that the witch was planning on doing so. Her eyes wandered around the room and lingered on the bottle of whiskey for a moment. She wasn't much of a drinker, and perhaps that was why it always caught her odd guard to see liquor out in the open in places she wouldn't expect it. Running a prison while consuming alcohol didn't seem like a good idea to her, but she tried to refrain from judging too much. It wouldn't help her case to hold prejudices against the man she was supposed to be meeting.

About five to ten minutes had passed when the door swung open again. The dark-skinned woman looked over her shoulder, politely smiling at lord Pyetr as he made his way over to his desk. His demeanor was quite frantic, which surprised her. She had expected Cam to be an emotionless and stoic man, but so far he seemed the opposite of that.

"That's quite alright", she responded with a kind smile. Her hands laid in her lap, and she had crossed her legs. The breezy dress she wore covered most of her body, although the V-neck allowed the many necklaces she wore to show. "I have no complaints about the journey. It was rather pleasant to go for a ride." A horse was otiose within the walls of Skia, and she didn't often need to leave the city. "I had some questions about Gunne Cortell, if you don't mind me asking. Her arrest was quite public, after all."

Right down to business, then, with this courtier. He had hoped for a few more minutes of meaningless chatter to gather his wits and learn how best to respond to her before he had to try to explain things or give one of the spiels he had memorized about the Beldam's pleasant characteristics.

A sliver of terror for his own reputation swam down his spine--was the courtier mocking the debacle of the arrest?

Gunne Cortell. He tried not to flinch at the name. Despite the letter, he'd hoped that the mention of her name had been incidental, perhaps an afterthought or a name-drop to help legitimize her self-invitation. Was this woman hoping to meet with Cortell? Was there a chance she was here to verify the witch's health and wellness? Perhaps he should have paused Cortell's treatment for the day, gotten her cleaned up and dressed in something presentable in case he couldn't avoid a meeting. Well, it was too late to signal the instructor at the door. He was on his own.

"Public indeed," he said, injecting his voice with a touch of regret. He moved to the wall and reached for the whiskey decanter so that most of his face was turned away from her for a moment, pouring two small glasses while he made sure he had his features under control. "I must admit, my men were not prepared for the level of violence the Lady Cortell was willing to unleash upon the court when we confronted her. A witch so powerful out of control . . . It greatly relieves me that no one was hurt."

He brought the glasses back to the desk, setting hers within reach on the other side of the desk before he sat down with his own. Perhaps he could steer the conversation enough to keep the questions from digging too far into meaty business, if he was careful.

Nithya studied Cam's face while she talked, and while she waited for his response. She didn't know yet what to make of the man. Before Gunne, she hadn't heard much about the Pyetr family, let alone about Cam himself. What she saw here, was what she'd know and remember. He was polished, well-dressed and looked like a rather serious individual. If he were to suddenly crack a joke, it would surprise her. But his behaviour didn't quite match his impeccable look. Cam seemed a tad nervous, fidgety and uneasy.

After having heard the news of Cortell's arrest, she had tried to gather information on Beldam. She hadn't been entirely unsuccessful, but it was obvious that the reputation of Beldam and the Pyetr family was kept under wraps. Nithya had been able to gather that the Beldam worked together with the military, and the crown. But, unbeknownst to her, they had other successfully missions that hadn't been as public as Gunne's arrest. Nithya, at that time, had no idea about the arrest of the Cambrians chieftess.

Cam seemed to regret just how public the arrest had been. Her piercing blue eyes peered in the man's back whilst Cam was pouring the glasses of whiskey. The man was shrouded in mystery, and Nithya sensed something dark within him.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from immediately responding. Instead, she took the time to diplomatically rephrase her reaction. "Bless the Goddess for keeping you and your men safe, indeed", she said. She had wanted to ask how on earth his men hadn't been prepared for a witch such as Lady Cortell, but had now found a way to do so more tactfully. "I can imagine your men didn't expect how powerful Lady Cortell is," she said, although she truly couldn't imagine, "But after all, Cortell is just the name she took after her marriage. She is, and always will be, a Morrigan witch."

Cam put down the glasses. "Thank you." She smiled slightly. She would not be touching the glass. She didn't drink on the job.

"Are you planning on informing her family about her whereabouts? The Morrigans aren't as present in day-to-day life, or political business, anymore, but her brother, Keelan Morrigan , asked the king to work with his fleet during the last open court." Maybe they also needed to look at her brother. Perhaps he had anti-Rainecourt ideas as well, and was trying to weasel his way into the king's business.

There was a barb underneath the royal courtier's words about the safety of his men, Cam knew, about the expectations they had had going into that situation. Deserved; perhaps a platoon of soldiers would have been a safer move than the guards he'd pulled off duty from the Beldam. A Morrigan witch indeed; he had overestimated the power that the Morrigan name would have on the lady's self-control, or at least on her social restraint. He'd replayed that day in his mind over and over in the weeks since the arrest, trying to figure out what he might have done differently to achieve a less embarrassing outcome. A different approach, less pushing, more pushing, maybe a big stick to the back of her head . . .

But now wasn't the time for that line of thought. He had to stay sharp to make sure this woman's intentions were as clean as her presentation, that she wasn't here on an ulterior motive. She had invoked the witch's deity, a good reminder that even if she wasn't a candidate for residency, she was still a woman and as untrustworthy as any other in a cell down the hall.

He sipped his whiskey at her question, keeping his eyes fixed on her over the rim of the glass. It wasn't meant to be intimidating, exactly, but he didn't soften the expression on his face, showing his disapproval. Inform her family? Was she here on behalf of that family? He set his glass on the table and leaned back in his chair.

"Lady Chaudhari," he began, his voice just a little patronizing to let her know how he felt about the question, "this isn't a spa retreat for privileged nobles. We work here under the authority of the crown, and sending out announcements and guest lists would compromise the integrity of our mission." He put a small smile on, his voice lifting. "As impressive as the Lady Cortell is, she gets no special treatment. Her family will learn of her stay when she is free to tell them how it went."

Generally it was up to the military--where most of the Beldam's "guests" came from--to decide what kind of notification made sense for the families of those taken in. With Gunne's husband dead and the rest of her family a possible threat, Cam was worried that informing anyone of her presence could result in even more unrest, or even violence. Not to mention Gunne's religious affiliations. The Beldam had never been attacked by a coven, but if there was ever going to be a first time...

The ability to maintain eye contact without feeling uneasy or the need to divert one's eyes was something that didn't come easy to most, but Nithya had never had a problem with prolonged silences and intense eye contact. Often times, it was the other person who would look away. Her piercing green eyes had that effect on others. So when Cam looked at her over the brim of his glass, she looked back, not an ounce of discomfort in her body. Nithya was a self-assured woman, and she knew her magic made her stronger than most men. She felt it surging through her veins, which also meant Beldam didn't have connections with Arynn Frey and its enchantments. She wondered if Cam had ever talked with the Captain Commander, or the King, about collars that restricted a witch's magic. However, Nithya wasn't too fond of the Beldam and would surely not be suggesting a collaboration like that to Cam.

The patronising tone of his voice didn't go unnoticed, but certainly was ignored by the courtier. "I don't recall calling the Beldam a spa retreat, lord Pyetr", she responded calmly. She didn't appreciate someone putting words in her mouth. "I was merely asking whether or not you were planning on informing them. Nowhere did I suggest you should." Cam's misogyny was really showing. She understood that letting the family know the whereabouts of lady Cortell wasn't ideal, but neither was not informing them at all. "The current situation is that a woman disappeared in the middle of the palace's courtyard, which has sparked controversy and has made people question their safety, and that, lord Pyetr, is on you. The King didn't issue this arrest, and neither did lady Caern, so it is your responsibility to deal with the family and the concerns of the citizens." She let a silence fall, hoping she had succeeded at putting Cam in his place. "You were present during the arrest. You showed your face. The Morrigans have connections in high places, and I wouldn't be surprised if they are looking into you as we speak."

She got up from her chair, seizing the high ground. She flattened her dress and looked back at Cam. "I suggest you start thinking about a way to resolve the issues you have brought upon us by arresting lady Cortell on the royal's property. We can't have the people thinking we are keeping her in the dungeons, for we don't have enough evidence of her conspiracies to justify arresting her. Do what you need to do, tell the family she is dead, if necessary, but if she gets out of here and talks, I'm sure the Beldam's reputation would plummet."

Cam would have rolled his eyes, if he was a man who expressed disdain so obviously. Instead, he simply watched her while she spoke, trying to determine what her weaknesses would be if she were to be put into his care. Would isolation break her? Destroying her ego?

She was right, perhaps, in that the Beldam's reputation could be impacted by the public arrest, but he was of the opinion that this was actually a good thing. A threat to the Beldam's reputation was a threat to the nation's security--no threat at all. The Beldam was a shadowy mystery; no one liked to even acknowledge the Beldam's existence. It was a stain on their society, a tragic result of failing education and weak pedigrees. How could a reputation like that be made worse?

Cam was fairly sure there was nothing to fear. 

Still, this was a royal courtier. Clearly she was a woman with a stronger stomach than most, if she could stand to be here, facing off against the master of the castle whose mere existence sparked fear in the hearts of magic-wielding women. He had to take her seriously, however preposterous her words.

"The arrest of a traitor to the crown on the crown's property is poetic and societal justice," he said, unconcerned at having to look up from his seat to meet her eyes. "Her misuse of magic at the castle proves her instability, so 'justifying' her arrest is none of my concern. And frankly, m'lady, not something you need to worry yourself over either. The Beldam conducts its business under the authority of the king."

He lifted his glass and gestured broadly. "Your concern is noted, your advice appreciated. If that's the message you came to deliver, I can have someone show you the way out. I'm sure your time is greatly in demand."