She orders two people's worth of breakfast - hot cereal with fruit, fried eggs, buttery toast, on a hexed platter to keep it warm, the palace is practically lousy with expensive hexes - and nibbles slowly on her half while she goes over yesterday's notes and what still remains to be done.
She has drafted a letter to her great-aunt (who is, after all, a countess and related to her and occasionally inclined to remember this, and may be able to help in some ways with some things - the loan of this property in the moors, these words in those ears, her recommendation on who to hire for this project) for review by her husband before she sends it, and begun to tediously pick apart some of the incoming mail full of requests and separate out the sincere from the strategic from the insane, by the time Edarial is likely to so much as wander out of his bedroom.
And Iobel comes in with a tray containing soup and bread and fresh fruit and cake. "Hi, sorry that took so long."
"It's okay," says Edarial. Pause. "... I'm sorry. For - everything that's happened. It shouldn't have happened, and I'm partially responsible, and... I'm sorry."
Iobel blinks at him as she sets the tray down on the guest room's little table. "I... accept your apology, what brings this on just now?"
"...And was probably unforgiveably rude about it, too, wasn't he," sighs Iobel, picking up her cat and sitting on the chair he's been occupied and setting him on her lap.
"Cricket, that was mean. I don't understand how you can admire how nice I am and then show no restraint yourself."
"It could have been much worse if you had been actively out to do me harm," Iobel says. "Really, the fact that it wasn't should have clued me in right away."
"And - just ignore Cricket. I don't think he's likely to monologue at you if you don't interact with him."
"He wasn't really interacting with him, actually," says Adarin. "He just sort of - leveraged addressing me into attacking Edarial."