Lance Illian stepped in from outside just in time to see the two sisters laughing together, their voices bright and unrestrained. He paused, momentarily taken aback. His gaze drifted—almost involuntarily—toward Yvaine's face, lingering there for the briefest instant before he quietly looked away.
"Lady Emberlyn," he said, regaining his composure, "it seems there is nothing more requiring my attention here. I shall take my leave."
Yvaine rose at once.
"Sir Illian, you are leaving already? Why not stay and share a meal?"
He glanced at her, a faint flush rising to his face. "I still have duties to attend to."
"Then next time," she said with a bright, easy smile. "Next time, I will cook something for you myself. I meant to say it before—when you were keeping watch that night. You all worked so hard, and not even a hot meal passed your lips."
The color at his cheeks deepened slightly. He cupped his hands in farewell, then turned and left without another word.
