Erian crouched beside the well, washing clothes in a wooden basin. His hands moved steadily through the familiar task, but every so often, he would pause and lift his gaze toward the room where Caelith rested.
Marina noticed. Every time. Very little escaped her sharp eyes.
She walked across the courtyard and stopped beside him.
"Mr. Erian."
The young man looked up, but said nothing.
Marina lowered herself into a crouch beside him, studying his expression.
"Mr. Erian, your feelings for Miss Caelith..." She tilted her head slightly. "Could it be that you..."
His hands stilled. Water dripped soundlessly from the cloth clenched between his fingers.
Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers. The look he gave her was cold––cold enough to make the air between them seem to freeze.
Marina only smiled. "There's no need to be nervous. I'm merely asking because I'm curious."
She rose gracefully and brushed the wrinkles from her skirts.
