To avoid complications, you wait a moment until Audrey completes her business and exits the hall. Hot bile burns away the weeds of trepidation in your mind. You know what you must do, and will push ahead with whatever seems fit to accomplish it.
Lines of simple pews draw the eye forward to the great curved icon of the Three Prophets, rising up from the stone floor. King Saul and Lady Gramercy, as expected, are in low conversation near the head of the room, facing the pulpit. You calmly slink into the nearest pew, head down as if deep in prayer.
You hear their voices stop and feel their eyes on you. "Who enters?" King Saul asks, suspicion threaded through each syllable.
"Oh!" You spring up as if just noticing them. "Your Majesty—M'Lady—a thousand greetings. Please, pay me no mind."
"Why, a gifted fool, and a devout!" The warlike noblewoman's tone is light, but her eyes are regarding you very keenly. Wits, serve me well, you beg the heavens. You're in the right place for prayer, after all.
Onward