After his meeting with the King, Myrwin made his way into his sister's chambers. She was out, or so the oh-so-solicitous servants said, so he made himself at home, sitting in her chair, kicking up his boots onto her table, and idly peeling a blood orange with his belt-knife. Another fruit, whole and untouched, lay within easy reach. He'd even had the lamps turned low and the candles unlit.
He wanted to surprise his baby sister. It'd be good for her - assuming she didn't rip open her stitches and die on the spot.