Less than a minute after going into Maf’s inner chambers, Sitrel came out again. At his side was a Kalquorian woman of singular beauty. Diltan recognized her right away: Matara Feyom.
The statuesque woman was the lifemate of another councilman, and a well-known face around the Government House. Too well known. The gossip surrounding her was thick and not complimentary. There were those who made remarks discussing how many of Feyom’s dozen children were the progeny of her clan. Even Diltan, who felt rumor mongering to be the activity of lower, petty minds, could not help overhearing such tales on occasion.
Had Feyom been leaving another councilman’s inner chambers, Diltan had to admit he might have thought the worst himself. He hated that his thoughts turned in that direction, making him no better than other judgmental men. For all Diltan knew, Feyom made it a habit to visit other councilmen to argue for her Dramok’s political agenda.
And even if she was the kind of person others alleged her to be, it was not Diltan’s place to condemn her. He’d done his share of unethical activities. Matara Lindsey’s face flashed in his mind, and Diltan felt that squirmy sense of shame in his gut once more. No, it was not his place to judge, not by far.
Besides, it was poor, twisted Maf Feyom had been visiting. The idea of such an amazing example of femaleness having a liaison with the deformed Dramok was laughable. Feyom shined dazzling bright.
She did not appeal to Diltan beyond her surface beauty. As he bowed in respect to the lifebringer, he reflected how hard her otherwise perfect face was. Though Feyom’s appearance was flawless, she missed something, something warm and lively. The Kalquorian woman would have benefitted from a touch of the fire that Cissy Salter possessed. Diltan thought his lover of the night before compared well against the woman who gazed at him with cold calculation.