Despite the odd meeting, Aliar's persistence and Kaelen's stubbornness prevailed and they continued meeting. And Lysander although little had began to warm up.
The letter crinkled between Kaelen's fingers. Heavy parchment. Expensive. The wax seal bore three interlocking circles, Aldric's mark. Beneath the formal script, Caelus had scrawled a cramped note about wine and card games. Beside Aliar's name, a ridiculous little cup drawn in ink, slightly crooked, as if he had rushed it.
Kaelen breathed in the smell of it. Beeswax. Faint cedar from the box it arrived in. The setting sun through the window cast long orange stripes across the bed.
"Let's go."
Lysander did not look up from his book. "We are not going."
Kaelen frowned. His thumb pressed into the letter's edge until it dented. "You decided that quickly."
"We have known them a month."
"Which is more than enough."
