Later in the palace, Penelope brushed her hair, preparing for bed.
"I could have sent for Matilda," Tyrion said as he walked into the room which once belonged to him.
"I am quite capable of brushing my hair and braiding it. We used to pretend Isabelle was a little doll and braid her hair. Did you find my father?" Penelope asked, shifting in her chair to face Tyrion.
"It appears your father is out of the palace, which I find to be odd since he left your mother behind. Is there something you are not telling me? Your mother doesn't appear to be concerned about your father, but you are," Tyrion said, drawing closer to Penelope.
Tyrion suspected there was reason for him to be concerned when Penelope smiled.
"That doesn't work on me," Tyrion said, placing his hand under her chin to make her look up. "Your smile is quite beautiful, but I know you are hiding something. What is it?"
"I think my father has left to see my grandfather," Penelope confessed.
"I see. Why is that a concern?"
