He glanced toward the wound at his waist.

"To be honest... it does hurt a little."

Soft light spilled across his face, illuminating those dark eyes until they seemed almost dangerously bright.

Caelith bit lightly against her lower lip. Then, after a long moment of hesitation, she lowered her head and slipped beneath the covers.

Rhaegar stilled. He felt her fingers carefully lift the edge of the robes at his waist.

And then, a warm, velvety softness brushed against the skin beside his wound.

Rhaegar’s breathing halted for a single moment. A sharp shiver surged upward from his waist, racing through his entire body like wildfire.

Pain? The pain vanished instantly.

All that remained was a numb, intoxicating sensation that left every nerve trembling beyond reason.

"Caelith..." His voice had already grown hoarse.

She ignored him completely. The tip of her tongue traced slow circles beside the wound, light and deliberate, as though soothing him—yet somehow also tormenting him.

Rhaegar’s fingers clenched tightly around the bedsheets.

"You..."

He tried to pull her back up, but her hand pressed firmly against his waist, refusing to let him move.

And then... She continued lower.

All his muscles contracted sharply. Across the firm lines of his abdomen, her touch fell again and again, feather-light and burning hot.

"Caelith..." Even his voice trembled now.

Yet she behaved as though she had heard nothing at all, continuing her slow torment.

Every muscle in his body drew taut once more. That unbearable sensation was far worse than pain.

At last, he could endure no more. He reached down abruptly and pulled her up into his arms.

Caelith fell against his chest, looking up at him, her face flushed.

Soft light poured across her face, illuminating cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Her eyes were hazy, dazed beneath lowered lashes, while her lips were swollen slightly from his earlier kisses.

At the corner of her mouth lingered a faint smear of dark red—blood from his wound. Something dark flickered within Rhaegar’s gaze.

"Caelith."

She looked at him softly. "Mm?"

He said nothing. Instead, he lowered his head and kissed her fiercely.

The metallic taste of blood spread between their lips and tongues.

He kissed her with near-desperate intensity, as though he wished to consume her entirely. Caelith’s hands climbed to his shoulders, returning his kisses with a passion fiercer than ever before.

The wound at his waist tore open again, fresh blood seeping through the bandages.

Yet he could no longer feel the pain. He could feel nothing. Nothing except her.

The warmth of her lips. The softness of her body wrapped around his. The faint trembling beneath him each time he touched her.

He pressed her gently into the mattress.

His kisses wandered lower, slow and possessive.

Outside the window, silver moonlight spilled into the chamber, bathing their entwined shadows in pale radiance.

. . .

By the time the night deepened into silence, Caelith had fallen into an exhausted sleep. Rhaegar lay beside her, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, keeping her tucked securely against his chest.

He lowered his gaze and quietly studied her sleeping face. A faint trace of blood still lingered at the corner of her lips.

Reaching out carefully, he wiped it away with his thumb.

Caelith stirred faintly in her sleep and instinctively curled closer into his embrace.

Rhaegar held her tighter. The wound at his waist still throbbed.

But he did not care.

***

At dawn, Caelith slowly awoke. The space beside her was empty.

She sat up blankly for a moment, her entire body aching with soreness.

Then memories of the previous night flooded back all at once, and her cheeks immediately flushed scarlet again.

Lowering her gaze, she saw the marks Rhaegar had left scattered across her collarbone, her chest, and the pale skin below.

Tentatively, she touched them with her fingertips. They still burned faintly beneath her skin.

At that moment, the chamber door opened. Rhaegar entered carrying a bowl of sweet porridge in his hands.

The moment he saw her sitting there in disheveled embarrassment, the corners of his lips curved upward slightly.

"You’re awake?"

Caelith nodded.

He set the porridge beside the bed before sitting down near her. Her eyes drifted immediately to his waist. Fresh bandages had already been wrapped there, clean and white.

"The wound opened again?"

Rhaegar nodded calmly. "It did."

Caelith lowered her eyes guiltily. "I’m sorry..."

Rhaegar reached out and lifted her chin gently. "What are you apologizing for?"

She looked at him hesitantly. "Last night..."

He smiled then, and somehow, that smile was more beautiful than any she had ever seen before.

"I liked it."

Caelith froze. Rhaegar leaned closer and pressed a kiss softly against her lips.

It was light, but burning hot.

***

Autumn had arrived.

The pear tree in the courtyard had begun to shed its leaves. One by one, the faded golden fragments drifted down soundlessly, carpeting the bluestone path beneath in a veil of dying amber.

Caelith stood beneath the tree in silence, watching the fallen leaves gather at her feet, lost in thoughts she could not name.

Yvaine stepped out from the chamber carrying a bowl of sweet tremella soup in her hands.

"Sister, have some soup," she said softly. "Lady Lian simmered it herself. She said it would soothe the lungs now that the weather has turned colder."

Caelith accepted the bowl and took a quiet sip. "Where is Lance?"

A faint blush instantly colored Yvaine’s cheeks. "He... he had official duties to attend to today. He said he would come later."

Caelith looked at her expression and the corner of her lips curved faintly upward.

"You two spend every day together already. Aren’t you tired of clinging to each other yet?"

"Caelith!" Yvaine stamped her foot lightly in embarrassment. "You’re teasing me again!"

Caelith laughed softly. Yet the smile never truly reached her eyes.

Yvaine noticed it immediately. The laughter faded from her own face as she stepped closer.

"Sister... have you been troubled lately?"

Caelith paused for a moment, then shook her head. "No."

Yvaine walked over and gently took her hand. "If something is wrong, you can tell me. We are sisters."

Caelith regarded her with a kind look.

And suddenly, she remembered the Yvaine from before—proud and arrogant, forever carrying herself above everyone else beneath heaven.

Now, however, she worried for her. She cared for her.

People truly could change for the better.

. . .

By evening, Rhaegar returned.

Caelith was inside sorting silk threads when she heard movement at the courtyard gate. Setting aside her embroidery, she rose and walked outside.

Rhaegar removed the sword hanging from his waist and laid it upon the table before accepting the tea she handed him.

He took a slow sip.

"You returned unusually early today," Caelith remarked.

"The case has been concluded." He leaned back against the chair, closing his eyes briefly in exhaustion. "That man surnamed Grandien... his sentence has been passed."