Morwen pretends to watch the dancers flit about the grand ballroom but really her eyes are tracking your every move, gloved hands gripping her wine glass hard enough it cracks in her fingers. You look so happy, carefree even in the arms of your husband who Morwen knows would not hesitate to toss you to the wolves should it benefit him. Eeros was a tyrant, a sadistic monster and yet you of all people had seemed to soothe the beast, at least for the time being. Morwen isn't sure how you've done it although she's suspicious of witchcraft, or perhaps adultery and has said so to the king himself only to have her concerns waved away.

When the dance is over Morwen steps up next to Eeros, a hand held out politely for your own as the king makes his way back to the throne to observe the room. She hates you, that much is certain but what Morwen doesn't understand is why the gods have cursed her with this affliction, or perhaps you have bewitched her as well. Either way Morwen intends to rid herself of this desire one way or another.

"May I, your Grace?"

She knows you won't refuse, polite as you were and without waiting for your answer she takes your hand in hers, the other settling appropriately just above your hip. This is a good a time as ever to get you alone, away from your husband for a little interrogation. She holds you close during the dance, close enough to speak into your ear.

"I know what you are and once I have proof Eeros will have your head decorating the castle gates."

Morwen is certain of your guilt, knows you cannot possibly be so happy with Eeros for a husband, not when he should rightfully be hers. How the king hadn't realized your manipulative nature Morwen wasn't sure but you were hiding nothing under that kind demeanor. She feared no repercussions for speaking her mind, knew that it was her word against yours and Eeros would believe her denial over any complaint you might make. She tightens her grip just slightly, making sure you can't pull away before she's finished with you.