Marguerite of course could not find it in her to refuse such a pitiful request. She let herself be lead by Jurian to the garden near her courtyard.
The night is already fallen and contrary to the usual brightness of the night that they are used to, the night here in Keltc is dark, but with a mystic touch of light. Fireflies and shiny flowers make it possible to distinguish the path and the faces of each other, while at the same time giving this odd sense of nostalgia and peace. The two remain silent as Jurian sits on a mossy rock nearby.
"Will you not prepare the Rriil?"
Jurian turns to look at her with inquiring eyes. Marguerite remains silent in face of his confusion that confuses her in turn.
"Didn't I give you the Tassel?"
Marguerite looks at him weirdly before finally understanding his meaning.
"You mean Aine?"
Jurian nods. But she still doesn't get what it has to do with the Rriil.
