Amara's eyes widened as she took in the black rose in Caelric's hand. Her fingers twitched, half wanting to reach for it, half recoiling.
"How… how did you get up here?" she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended. "You're wearing… all this — formal clothes, boots, gloves — and you're a noble. Did you climb?"
Caelric's crimson eyes glinted in the moonlight. A faint smirk curved his lips as he leaned slightly on the balcony railing, the black cloak around his shoulders flaring with the cold breeze. "Climb? Oh no, my lady. I merely walked where the walls allowed. Nobility has its advantages… though I do enjoy a bit of mischief now and then."
Amara's brow furrowed, part disbelief, part exasperation. "Mischief? At my window? In the dead of night?" She crossed her arms, her silk gown rustling softly against the floor. "Do you always behave like this?"
