The sitting room was small but suitable should she need to receive a visitor or two. Her bedchamber was finely done up as well, nearly palatial in comparison to her cot at Othala's tent, but even a step up from her recent inn room. When the flurry of people began to filter out, Wenn ran her fingers over the fine linens hanging at the wash basin. She walked the length of the bed, feeling the smooth weave of the white coverlet. It was all very nice. In time, she supposed it would feel like home.

Abruptly, her thoughts were interrupted by a call from the other room.

"Lady W-Wenndolyne?"

Wenn stepped into her small parlor and curtsied to the young page. He was precious, being hardly Simon's age, and all done up in black jacket and knickers, wiggling in boots just a little too big for him. He held a small basket of colorful wild flowers. It shivered with his nervousness, then he finally made his bow without dumping any blooms.

"That would be me, young sir. How may I help you?"

"Oh no, mum." His cheeks went hot. "I'm no sir. Justa page."

Wenn grinned but managed to stifle a snicker. "Beg pardon, good page. What have you here? A lovely basket, I must say."

"Oh! Yes, mum. Tis fer you. Tis from the Chancery an' there's a..." His faced screwed up a bit as he tried to balance the shivering basket in one hand while attempting to take a parchment from beneath it. He nearly jumped as Wenn lifted the basket from his hand. He was sure he'd dropped it. "Thank ya, mum. This here's ta go wiffit." He then handed her a somewhat crumpled little scroll then quickly stood at attention, as best he could manage.

"Hold just a moment. Let me see if I need send a reply, hm?"

"Oh, yes, mum."

Wenn sat the pretty basket on a side table then snapped the wax seal on the parchment into her hand. She uncurled the note and said nothing while fishing into her pocket, producing a silver coin. With a warm smile, she reached out toward the boy who was a little slow to put out his own hand. He was very very new at this page business, obviously.

"This is for you. I need send no reply. I do thank you for the beautiful flowers. You've done very well..." Her pause hinted to him.

"Robert." he grinned.

"Robert. Yes, a fine page, who shall make a fine sir some day, no doubt."

"Thank you, mum." He looked around for just a second then up to Wenn again.

"You may go, Page Robert." She smiled.

"Thank you, mum!" he called as he was almost out the door already.

Well then, Wenn thought, no time to enjoy her new accommodations. The note from Minister Whitcomb asked her to come to his office at earliest opportunity, concerning an event she shall need to attend two days hence. She took no time at all in gathering her cloak and leaving her rooms.

Wenn was crossing briskly through the firehall when it occurred to her that two days hence would be Saturday. Friday will have come and gone; Friday, which held a looming uncertainty for her. She was anxious to have it done but greatly feared the day as well. Now, she would have duties too.

Before knocking on Minister Whitcomb's door, Wenn had to purposely erase her frown of personal concern. This was business. Whitcomb was cordial and patient in answering Wenn's myriad of questions. She was sure she'd forgotten to ask them all but also that she was tasking his patience. At least when she left his office, she had a notion of what manner of dress was appropriate for the gala and a hint of her part in it.

There was time left in the day to do the shopping she needed to do, but Wenn decided to hold that for tomorrow. It might well preserve her sanity to have such a task while waiting for the approach of evening, the return of Poet, and the Admiral's decision. She also hoped she might catch the Admiral this evening to be more open with him. In a way, she wished she would run into Lord Wolf as well, to ask him why, but she was sure she'd never have the words for it.

Unfortunately as Wenndolyne prepared for sleep that night, she had not seen any of the men who seemed to hold her fate just out of her reach. Well, she did see at least one man, a preciously cute and very young gentleman. Sir Simon was quite playful and made the anxious waiting in the firehall much less so. Wenn escorted him to the ship and to his room. She tucked him in and hummed her soft lullabye until Simon was curled deeply into sleep. Now laying restlessly in her own bed, Wenn wished there was someone who could do this favor for her as well.