Arrow Lake pronuntio

His eyes sought her—she returned his look—searing as it might have been, and then glanced away. She joined him—stalwart as he awaited her by the lake edge, and as she neared him, a hair’s breadth from his own body—he began to walk amicably with her, that of a guarded soldier, and she wondered at it. He was always so formal upon their first meeting, as if he was testing the water between them and expecting the worst.

His words of congratulations offered all she needed to know—Reyson had spoke of his intentions. Of course he had. He was a noble man, and there was a certain flare within her breast that perhaps the goldsun wolf was serious about courting her for him to bring it forth to his Imperator.

She tried to make light of the situation—almost unwilling to open up the vulnerability of herself that she dare hope it would indeed work out. “Reyson is stubborn and seems determined to show me that not all relationships end in complete failure,” she offered, a tic in her jaw, her eyes cast upon the lake rather than his countenance. What more was there to read from the man, when all he had managed to ask from her was hope, when another had promised everything to her and more?