Lucas bowed his head politely in greeting. "Lord Rhaegar. Good to see you today."

Rhaegar said nothing, merely regarding the guest with a quiet stare.

Lucas turned toward Caelith once more, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "I’ll take my leave first."

Then he walked out of the courtyard, quietly closing the gate behind him.

Silence settled over the courtyard, heavy with tension.

Rhaegar stepped forward slowly, one measured step after another, until he stopped directly before Caelith.

He looked at her without speaking. For some reason, Caelith suddenly felt her heart grow uneasy.

"Rhaegar, he—"

"What was he helping you with?"

Caelith froze briefly. Then, as though suddenly understanding something, she gave him a warm smile.

"The embroidery house. I needed his advice."

Rhaegar’s gaze remained fixed steadily upon her. "The embroidery house?"

"Yes." Caelith met his eyes calmly. "Firefly Pavilion is preparing to reopen. Some fabrics need to be purchased through Ostenton Embroidery House. Lord Ostenton offers better prices, so I discussed business with him. directly"

Rhaegar remained silent, though his eyes kept moving over her features as if looking for something unspoken.

Caelith let out a soft sigh.

"Rhaegar, I know you dislike him. But business is business. I cannot refuse every transaction simply because you are unhappy about it. I told you I wanted to handle things on my own. I need to learn to do this."

She stepped closer and reached out to hold his hand gently.

"In the future, there will be other men I must deal with as well. Suppliers, merchants, clients commissioning embroidery..." She looked up at him steadily. "Surely you do not expect every person around me to remain women forever?"

Rhaegar’s fingers tightened faintly around hers.

Caelith watched him carefully, worry brewing underneath.

"Don’t you trust me?"

At last, Rhaegar looked into her eyes. The storm hidden within those dark depths slowly quieted.

He reached out and pulled her into his embrace, a long sigh brushing over the crown of her head.

"I trust you."

Caelith rested her face against his chest, finally relaxing.

"Then don’t overthink it."

He did not respond immediately. After a long moment, he suddenly spoke again.

"Caelith."

"Mm?"

"I will marry you very soon."

She froze for a moment, startled by that declaration.

Rhaegar lowered his head and looked directly into her eyes.

"I will let the entire world know who you belong to."

Caelith stared at him silently. The dying light of sunset spilled across his face, illuminating those usually shadowed eyes until they glowed with startling intensity. Within them lay certainty, possessiveness, and something deeper she could not quite name.

Before she could answer, he lowered his head and kissed her.

Deeply. Possessively. With that familiar hunger that always seemed to consume him whenever he touched her.

Caelith closed her eyes, her hands rising instinctively to rest upon his shoulders.

Behind them, the setting sun stretched their shadows long across the courtyard stones, until the two silhouettes melted together as one.

***

In the second month of autumn, Lance Illian came to formally propose marriage.

When he arrived, he was dressed in an entirely new set of robes. His hair had been combed and bound with meticulous care, not a single strand out of place. In his hands, he carried four gift boxes wrapped with bright red silk.

Yet despite all that preparation, the way he stood in the courtyard looked more nervous than a man walking toward his own execution.

Caelith watched him for a moment and nearly laughed.

"You can put the gifts down first."

Lance carefully placed the boxes upon the stone table before suddenly dropping to one knee.

"Miss Caelith," he said solemnly, "this subordinate wishes to marry Yvaine. Since she does not have any other family... I’d like to ask for your blessing."

Caelith crossed her arms over her chest, looking down on him like a caring parent.

"Have you thought this through?"

Lance nodded without hesitation. "This subordinate’s life will belong to her from this day onward."

Behind the lattice window of the western wing, the faint shadow of someone could be seen pressed anxiously against the screen.

Caelith glanced toward it once before withdrawing her gaze. She remained silent for a long while, teasing the knight by pretending to weigh the options.

Lance continued kneeling there motionlessly, not daring to move a single muscle. Only after what felt like an eternity did Caelith finally speak again.

"Do you promise to treat her well?"

The man lifted his head immediately. "In this lifetime, she is the only woman I will ever choose."

From inside the western wing came a faint clatter, as though someone had accidentally knocked over a stool in excitement.

Caelith let out a helpless sigh. "You may stand."

Lance rose at once and looked at her expectantly. Seeing that expression on his face, Caelith suddenly remembered the first time she had met him.

Back then, he had followed silently behind Rhaegar, cold-faced and taciturn, a man who rarely spoke more than necessary.

And now? Now he stood before her looking like a foolish young boy on the verge of panic.

"The wedding will wait until after autumn."

Lance’s body froze for a moment, but then a wide grin spread instantly across his face.

"That will be fine! Thank you, my lady!"

At that exact moment, the door to the western wing burst open. Yvaine ran out and threw herself straight into Lance’s arms.

"Lance!"

The man caught her tightly, smiling so broadly that the joy in his eyes could no longer be concealed.

Caelith stood nearby watching them quietly. A faint smile curved her lips, comforting warmth spreading widely inside her chest.

But that warmth never reached her eyes. A hint of sadness began to bloom in her heart as well.

. . .

That night, Yvaine came knocking softly upon Caelith’s chamber door. She stood outside, carrying two cups of fragrant tea and soft honey cakes.

"Sister, I can’t sleep. I wanted to talk with you for a while."

Caelith stepped aside to let her enter.

The two sisters sat together by the table, each holding a warm cup between their hands.

Yvaine lowered her head, staring at the red saffron floating in the liquid.

"Sister."

"Yes?"

"After I marry Sir Illian... will I still be able to come see you often?"

Caelith looked at her with eyebrows raised, clearly confused. "Why wouldn’t you?"

Yvaine sighed, then raised her eyes, flashing a look of sadness within.

"I’m also afraid... you’ll be very lonely all by yourself."