The invitation came without fanfare. Kaelen found me in the library one afternoon, his steps quiet on the stone floor, his presence announced only by the subtle shift in the air. I looked up from my book—a history of the northern wars, dense and dry but oddly compelling—and found him watching me from the doorway.
"I have correspondence to finish," he said. "Would you like to join me?"
I blinked, surprised. He had never invited me to his study before. The room was his private domain, a place where he conducted the business of the North, where he met with advisors and made decisions that shaped the lives of thousands. I had never been inside.
"I wouldn't want to intrude."
"You wouldn't be." He stepped into the library, his hand extended. "I find that I work better when you're near."
