The darkness that seemed to creep into the room the moment Fenrir made himself known might have alarmed a normal Lady of a Knighted House, but Ceannah was anything but. The breath she drew in was sharp, and only from surprise, but lacked in fear. What did she have to fear in this world any longer? This broken world which sought to take everything from her, and hers. Nothing to fear, but plenty to conquer. She was more surprised that he was bowing then the fact that he'd been there, and so very close to her. She'd heard stories of his famous cloak, there were probably just as many legends about it as there were about him. But how many were true? She hadn't heard him, she had heard the attendant which was now quickly exiting the room in fear of Fenrir.
Did her servant think he was here to murder her? If he wanted to, he would have by now.
"I had thought the myths were untrue, a cloak which hid too much to be real. But here you are." Ceannah did not stand, but she did bow her head in return to him, and in greeting. He probably knew her dagger was under the table, for protection, and so she found no reason to place it on the table top for him to see. How long had he been there? How long had he been watching her? What did he see? She was a little displeased, not because he'd been there, but because she hadn't known. Did she show some weakness? It would have angered her, if she had, but as she recalled when she entered the room she'd stopped fussing over the fact that Banning was as useless as every other Lord's son she'd met in her lifetime. She dwelt on some of the meeting, but she certainly hadn't cried.
Only girls and priestesses still wept.
"Would you answer me if I asked how long you've been there?"