Of every face this castle could have thrown at him on the way out, hers was the one he did not mind stopping for.
Lysandra waited a little down the corridor, out of armor for once, wrapped in something light and pale that let her move like a person instead of a soldier.
Her platinum hair sat shorter than it had in the old days, cut back to her shoulders now, the pale of it near enough to the snow past the windows that she looked half made of it. Green eyes found him and warmed, and there was not a knife anywhere in the look. In this family that alone made her rarer than any talent.
"Look at you." She crossed the last of the distance and took him in, head to boot, the way she had on the landing when he first came home. "You walk into a mine a Prime and stroll back out an Ascend. And here I was, thinking I had a few good years on you yet."
"You still have the years." Trafalgar let the corner of his mouth go. "Only not the lead."
