After that single resounding slap, Yvaine grew quiet—for a time.
In the days that followed, she caused no further trouble for Caelith. Not only did she refrain from provocation, but even in her daily visits to Lady Valehart, she conducted herself with perfect propriety.
"My lady, you did not see it," Dolly said as she stood beside Caelith. "These past few days, Lady Yvaine has been courteous to everyone she meets—like an entirely different person. The servants whisper that your slap truly frightened her."
Seated by the window, Caelith held a newly embroidered handkerchief in her hands. "She is not afraid of me," she said calmly. "She is waiting."
"Waiting?" Dolly echoed, puzzled.
"I know her nature better than anyone." Caelith lowered her gaze and continued stitching the delicate form of peony petals. "Let us simply wait and see."
At that moment, a servant came to announce that Yvaine had arrived to pay her respects.
