When morning light filtered through the lattice windows, Dolly entered the chamber, bearing a letter in both hands.
"My lady, this was sent by Lady Tanmin."
Caelith, seated before her mirror, paused mid-motion. She accepted the letter and unfolded it.
To Lady Emberlyn,
Three days hence, at the outskirts' riding grounds—an invitation for the lady to accompany me.
Sincerely,
Lady Isabella Tanmin.
The very same woman who, at the banquet, had clung to Rhaegar's sleeve, calling him Rhae with such effortless familiarity.
Dolly muttered softly from the side, "That lady grew up with Duke Thorne… if my lady goes, I fear it may be a little…"
She did not finish, yet the meaning was plain––the invitation was meant to put Caelith into an awkward position.
She folded the letter and slipped it back into its glossy envelope. "I will go. Why should I not? Lady Isabella will be offended otherwise."
She, too, wished to see for herself just what kind of person Isabella Tanmin truly was.
***
