At the sight of him, Lady Tanmin's eyes lit instantly. She stepped forward with quick, eager strides, her voice bright with youthful warmth.
"Rhae!"
She caught hold of his sleeve, chattering animatedly about her days beyond the frontier—of galloping across endless plains, of drawing the bow beneath open skies, of the wild, boundless beauty of the grasslands. When her excitement rose, her gestures became lively, almost childlike in their enthusiasm.
Rhaegar listened with quiet patience, offering the occasional reply. There was a gentleness in his expression rarely seen—a warmth reserved for familiarity, for shared years long past.
Caelith's fingers tightened slightly around her wine cup.
She had never seen him treat any other woman with such ease.
There was no trace of romance in his gaze toward Isabella—yet there was indulgence, closeness, the quiet fondness of one who had grown beside her. It was a past Caelith could not step into, a time she could never reach.
