Rhaegar tilted his head slightly, the movement bringing him close enough that his cheek brushed the edge of Caelith's ear. Instantly, she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin. Startled, she turned sharply, attempting to widen the distance between them—only for her forehead to accidentally brush against his chest.
Seeing her flustered reaction, Rhaegar could not help but laugh softly.
"Your Grace is the Commander of the Shadow Guard," Caelith said, lowering her head, her voice cool though her pulse had quickened. "Surely a man of such rank would not rely on such… underhanded stratagems."
Rhaegar stepped forward in response, closing the distance again and effectively trapping her between himself and the stone table.
"When dealing with a man like Dorian Valehart," he replied calmly, "unorthodox methods often prove far more effective than the conduct of a so-called gentleman."
They now stood less than half a foot apart. Their breaths mingled in the quiet courtyard.
"That may be so," Caelith answered. "A commander of the Shadow Guard must have seen his share of ruthless and deceitful men. It would only be natural for him to become accustomed to such tactics."
Rhaegar showed no sign of anger at her words. Instead, he simply lifted his hand and closed it around her wrist.
"Why did you panic just now while we were playing?" he asked.
"I…" Caelith hesitated, unsure how to answer.
Moments earlier, his black pieces had pressed her relentlessly on the board, forcing her into retreat after retreat. Her skill at the game was modest at best; faced with such pressure, it was only natural that she had lost her composure.
"Were you afraid of losing the match?" Rhaegar continued. "Or afraid of losing to me?"
"I am simply not very skilled at chess," she replied quietly.
At that, Rhaegar's lips curved faintly. His gaze drifted—almost unconsciously—to her mouth.
The air between them grew warmer.
Slowly, he leaned down toward her.
Caelith instinctively tried to turn away—but instead found her eyes closing of their own accord. Her hands clenched tightly at her sides.
There was fear in her.
Yet beneath it lay a faint, unspoken anticipation.
When Rhaegar realized this, a thrill shot through him, so sharp it made his body tremble slightly.
Their lips were only a breath apart… When suddenly, the courtyard gate was struck by a firm knock.
"Your Grace, I have urgent business to report."
Rhaegar's expression darkened instantly, his gaze flashing toward the gate with dangerous irritation.
Caelith quickly turned her face aside, afraid someone might see them in such a compromising position.
"Enter," Rhaegar said at last, straightening and stepping back. "You had better truly have urgent business."
A young man strode quickly into the courtyard and dropped to one knee beside him.
"Your subordinate, Lance Illian, greets you, Your Grace. The Northern Command of the Shadow Guard has intercepted a secret letter. The Captain Odian, in charge of punishments, dared not decide alone and ordered me to summon you back immediately for judgment."
Rhaegar gave a slight nod, acknowledging the report. Then his gaze shifted toward Caelith.
Caelith inclined her head faintly. "Since my lord has official duties to attend to, I shall take my leave."
With that, she turned and walked away without waiting for further reply.
Rhaegar did not stop her. Instead, he quietly instructed Lance to arrange for men to follow at a distance and ensure that she returned safely.
***
Not long afterward, Caelith arrived back at the Valehart residence.
The moment she stepped through the inner gate, a maid hurried toward her. It was Charlotte, Yvaine's personal attendant.
"Lady Valehart," Charlotte said with a shallow bow, "my lady has not seen you for quite some time and wishes to invite you to sit and speak with her."
Caelith had little desire to deal with Yvaine and her endless insinuations.
"I have matters to attend to," she replied coolly. "Another day, perhaps."
But Charlotte stepped forward, deliberately blocking her path.
"My lady requests your presence at once."
"How dare you!" Dolly's voice rang out sharply as she hurried forward. "You would presume to coerce the Lady of the house?"
Charlotte did not argue. Instead, she cast Caelith a provocative glance, as though daring her to refuse.
Caelith understood well enough that if she declined today, Yvaine would not let the matter rest.
At last, she gave a small nod.
"Very well. Lead the way."
***
They soon arrived at the pavilion in the middle of the estate's lake.
Yvaine was already seated there.
She wore a soft butter-yellow dress that set off her delicate complexion beautifully. A crimson-gold hairpin gleamed among the ornaments at her temple, catching the afternoon light.
The moment she saw Caelith approach, Yvaine rose with a bright smile.
"Sister, you have finally returned! I have been waiting here nearly half an hour."