She turned her face away, refusing to meet his eyes.
"You understand well enough. You should leave."
For a long moment, he said nothing—only watched her.
Then suddenly, he reached through the bars and seized her wrist.
His hand was burning hot, his grip iron-strong, as though he meant to anchor her in place. Pain shot through her arm as she instinctively tried to pull away—but his hold only tightened.
"Caelith," he said, each word heavy and controlled, "look at me."
Caelith did not move.
Rhaegar's patience broke.
With a sharp pull, he dragged her forward until she stood against the barred door. Their faces were separated by nothing more than the narrow space between the wooden slats. His breath fell against her skin, warm and unsteady, edged with restrained fury.
"Do you even understand what you are saying?"
Caelith lifted her head and met his gaze.
