Isabella froze, stunned.
Caelith rose slowly, brushing the dust from her hands as though nothing of significance had happened.
"He should marry someone of equal standing," she said quietly. "You two are well-suited. Truly." A pause—her voice softened, almost to a whisper. "You are a better woman than I."
***
After Isabella left, Caelith stood at the doorway for a long while, her eyes unfocused, her mind blank.
Then she turned back inside.
She swept away the broken shards, finished hanging the damp clothes beneath the fading light, and moved about the small courtyard as though nothing within her had shifted at all.
From inside, Yvaine's voice—small, cautious––called out to her, "Caelith… who was that visiting?"
"The Princess."
"The Princess?" Yvaine stepped out a little, curiosity flickering in her widened eyes. "What did she come for? I heard before that Dorian admired her… she wasn't here to mock us, was she?"
Caelith did not answer.
