Herbalists' Cache patience and restraint

morwenna watched him in silence for a long moment, her expression unreadable but not unkind. the gentle flicker of firelight from a small ember bed caught the pale curve of her face, silver eyes locked upon ksura’s with the quiet scrutiny of a woman who had borne kingdoms and buried them, both.
his jest earned a faint lift at the corner of her mouth, a breath of amusement that did not quite rise to laughter. a noble house, then, she murmured wryly, tilting her head. house damnitksura. we shall stitch it onto a banner, red and gold.
but when he mentioned kekoa—when he said help—her gaze sharpened. not with suspicion, but with a buried hope, one that had grown heavy in the marrow of her bones. a rare thing to admit, much less indulge.
she inclined her head slightly. good, she said softly. he is wise. but then, ksura paused. hesitated. i had an idea.
that made her lean forward, if only slightly, enough for her voice to lower. what is your plan?
because she was no longer a girl who leapt blindly into war. not anymore. not with children sleeping just behind her.