Remiel scratched his nose. "Well, that doesn't make things any easier," he complained. He was, if anything, more confused than ever. At least he didn't have to vote for Imogen in order to save his own skin. He slumped back against a pillar, sliding down against it until he sat flat on the ground. He stared at the ceiling for awhile, his mouth agape. "Kendra, Kyrsa, Josietta," he muttered under his breath. "Josietta, Kyrsa, Kendra. Falanor or Imogen? Imogen or Falanor. Beguile's Mistress--yea or nay? Or have I gone completely daft?"
He sighed. "Bugger it--Josietta it is. Time for a nap." He tilted his floppy, tricorner hat down over his eyes, and before long was snoring loudly.