Three days later, Marquise Yonathan's flower-viewing banquet was held as planned.
Dorian did not take Caelith with him. Instead, he brought Yvaine Emberlyn at his side under the pretence of his wife feeling unwell.
When Caelith heard of it, she showed no anger. She simply instructed Dolly to prepare another carriage.
By the time her carriage arrived before the marquisate gates, guests were already gathering.
Dolly helped Caelith step down.
Today, Caelith wore a gown of pale white silk gauze, its simple lines flowing like mist. Her dark hair was arranged in large, flowing waves, lending her an ethereal elegance—as though she were some celestial maiden descended briefly into the mortal world.
The garments themselves had been secretly sent into the Valehart estate by Rhaegar Thorne.
Originally, Caelith had intended to leave them untouched in her wardrobe, gathering dust. Yet she possessed few suitable gowns for such an occasion, and so in the end she had no choice but to wear them.
When Dorian saw her, he paused in surprise.
"Caelith, you came..! You… You look rather striking today," he said, unable to hide both his shock and admiration.
"You flatter me, my lord," Caelith replied lightly. "It is merely an ordinary attire."
The compliment felt strange to her, arriving as it did without reason.
Yvaine, however, felt a surge of jealousy.
She had dressed herself in rich and elaborate finery for the banquet, yet Caelith's quiet elegance eclipsed her entirely. And now Dorian had even praised Caelith's appearance.
Day after day, Yvaine had flattered him and adorned herself carefully, yet he had never once spoken such words to her.
And now Caelith—simply by wearing a pleasing gown—had gained his admiration.
"Dear sister," Yvaine said with deliberate sweetness, "I thought you disliked gauze designs. Yet the gown you wear today seems to be made of—"
"To me," Caelith replied calmly, "gauze is merely cloth. I cannot claim to treasure it as dearly as you do, sister."
Yvaine felt as though she had been subtly mocked.
She burned with frustration, wishing she could step forward and argue with Caelith directly—but she could only watch as Caelith quietly drew all the attention upon herself.
"Come," Dorian said at last, moving ahead and gesturing for Caelith to follow.
The banquet of the Marquise Yonathan estate had been arranged beside a waterside pavilion. The structure stood surrounded on all sides by rippling water, and the fragrance of blossoms drifted gently through the air.
Caelith took her seat and lifted the cup of clear tea placed before her.
Then suddenly… She caught a familiar scent in the air.
Pinewood.
Her heart tightened instantly.
Rhaegar Thorne was here.
But why would he come?
Those invited to this flower-viewing banquet were almost entirely noble couples and their relatives. Why would the Commander of the Shadow Guard appear in such a place?
The answer came a moment later.
"Lord Rhaegar, please come in!" the Marquise called warmly.
Caelith raised her eyes before she could stop herself.
Rhaegar stood at the entrance.
Today, he was not dressed in his official uniform. Instead, he wore a simple charcoal-black formal attire. Yet even so, the aura surrounding him remained unmistakably commanding.
The lively chatter of the banquet faded almost instantly into silence.
Caelith lowered her head at once, not daring to meet his gaze.
The marquise eagerly invited him to take a seat, but Rhaegar replied in a calm tone, "You are too kind, my lord. I merely passed by and thought to pay my respects briefly. I still have official matters to attend to later, so I will stand and observe for just a moment."
Caelith shrank slightly into her seat, a sense of unease creeping through her.
Dolly noticed her reaction at once.
"My lady, what is wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"
"I feel a little stifled," Caelith murmured. "I will step outside for some air. Remain here—I will return shortly."
She rose quietly and slipped away from the pavilion.
Rhaegar watched her leave with a small grin.
A moment later, he excused himself casually and followed after her.
Dorian, absorbed in conversation, noticed nothing.
Deeper within the garden, Caelith had only just paused beneath a flowering tree when a voice sounded behind her.
"Why are you hiding?"
It was Rhaegar.
With a sigh of resignation, Caelith turned and offered a formal bow.
"Greetings, Your Grace. May I ask what brings you here today?"
He approached slowly, step by step, until she found herself backed against a flowering crabapple tree.
"My reasons are my own," he said lightly. "But tell me—why do you flee the moment you see me?"
"You misunderstand," she replied calmly. "I came out merely for some fresh air. I was not avoiding you."
Rhaegar raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting to the tips of her ears, which had flushed faintly red.
"You are blushing," he observed. "Are you shy?"
"No," she said quickly—though even she could not name the emotion stirring in her chest.
Suddenly, Rhaegar reached out and caught her chin between his fingers, forcing her to lift her face and meet his eyes.
Caelith's cheeks burned crimson. Her heart pounded with alarm—what if someone saw them like this?
Rhaegar smiled faintly and released her.
From within his sleeve, he drew out a small, delicate sachet of incense.
"Take it."
Caelith looked at the small sachet in his hand, confusion flickering across her face.
"My lord… what does this mean?"