At that mont, Xarion gave a low cough from the side, breaking the charged silence.
"Mother—"
"Silence." The Old Madam did not so much as glance in his direction. "It is I who am asking the questions."
Xarion fell quiet at once.
Caelith lifted her eyes to the Old Madam.
That gaze, though steady, bore no harshness. It did not feel like an interrogation, but rather the asured ease of a private conversation between equals—one that invited truth rather than compelled it.
She was silent for a few monts. Then, at last, she spoke. "He knelt for ... for two days and two nights."
The Old Madam inclined her head. "That much, I know."
"He defied an imperial decree for my sake."
"I know that as well."
Caelith hesitated, her voice softening. "And when he looks at ... there is no one else in his eyes but ."
The Old Madam regarded her with a stern look. For a long while, she said nothing.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
"The Emberlyn family, in years past, was of fine standing," she said, her tone touched with rembrance. "When your grandfather yet lived, I had occasion to et him. Your father as well—I have seen him. Both were n of admirable character."
At her words, a faint sting rose unbidden to Caelith’s eyes.
"Alas..." The Old Madam gave a quiet sigh. "Such is the caprice of fate."
From the side, Xarion let out a low, dismissive snort. "Mother, do not be swayed by her honeyed words."
The Old Madam cast him a brief glance of disapproval.
"I have lived more than sixty years," she said evenly. "There is no sort of person I have not encountered, no manner of fair speech I have not heard."
Xarion had no answer to that.
The Old Madam turned back to Caelith, her expression once more softened.
"But tell this, child... If, in the end, His Majesty still insists that Rhaegar wed Princess Isabella... how then will you conduct yourself?"
Caelith drew in a slow, steady breath. This was not an outco she had failed to consider.
"If that day truly cos," she said with quiet resolve, "I shall honor His Grace’s choice. Should he wed Princess Isabella, I will offer my blessings. But if he chooses —then in life or in death, I shall never forsake him."
For the span of a single heartbeat, the hall fell utterly still. Yet within that stillness, there stirred a palpable tremor—one that none present could ignore.
The Old Madam regarded her intently.
"Child, do you know that for your sake, Rhaegar knelt before the Imperial Study... until he coughed blood?"
Caelith nodded. "I know."
"It is well that you do." The Old Madam sighed softly. "That boy is stubborn by nature. Once he has set his heart upon sothing, not even nine oxen could drag him from it. I had once intended for him to marry Isabella—an alliance between the two houses would have served him well, and the Thorne family likewise."
She paused, her gaze deepening. "But today, having seen you, I find myself wondering... whether I have been in error."
Caelith stood stunned.
The Old Madam looked upon her steadily. "You neither abase yourself nor shrink away. Though summoned here, knowing full well you might suffer for it, you still ca. Such courage is not commonly found."
With that, she rose and walked slowly toward her. Caelith hastened to her feet. The Old Madam lifted her hand and gently patted the young woman’s cheek.
The gesture was light—tender, even—bearing the quiet warmth of unspoken approval.
"A graceful young lady."
At once, Caelith’s eyes grew moist.
Turning back, the Old Madam retrieved the food box from the table and placed it into her hands. "Take this."
Caelith lowered her gaze—it was that sa box of pastries.
"Old Madam, this..."
"It was ant to be delivered to you by Rhaegar himself," the Old Madam said. "Since he could not, I had you brought here instead. It makes no difference."
Caelith looked at the box, recognizing the mark of the imperial kitchens.
"These were bestowed by the Palace..."
"I am aware," the Old Madam interrupted calmly. "This old woman gives as she pleases, and to whom she pleases."
Caelith found herself at a loss for words.
The Old Madam pressed the box more firmly into her hands. "Take it. These past years... you have not had an easy path."
Caelith clasped the food box in her hands, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. She raised her head and looked at the Old Madam.
"I am forever grateful for your benevolence, my lady."
The Old Madam regarded her for a long mont, then gave a quiet sigh. "Go on. The hour grows late."
Caelith bowed once more in respectful farewell and turned to leave. Yet as she reached the doorway, she suddenly paused, glancing back.
The Old Madam still stood where she was, watching her.
Moonlight stread in through the lattice windows, falling upon her silver hair and bathing it in a soft, ineffable gentleness—an image at once dignified and tender beyond words.
At last, Caelith’s tears slipped free.
A faint smile curved her lips as she turned away and departed.
***
The two walked side by side along the narrow lane.
Moonlight spilled across the alley, whitening the worn stone slabs beneath their feet. She walked beside him at an unhurried pace, her steps light yet steady.
After a while, Rhaegar spoke. "What did they say to you... just now, at the residence?"
Caelith considered her words for a mont.v"Your grandmother asked a question."
"What question?"
She lifted her gaze to him, eager to see his reaction. "She asked... what it is I like about you."
Rhaegar’s steps faltered briefly. "And what did you say?"
A trace of mischief touched her expression as she smiled. "You may guess."
They t each other’s eyes—and, in that quiet exchange, both could not help but smile.
After escorting Caelith safely ho, Rhaegar turned away and made his way toward an old, hidden house tucked deep within a dead-end alley.
User Comments
0 comments from readers