Dawnlark Plains I can't hear it now

faust's jaw tightened—just barely—but enough to betray the flicker that passed through him.
lunarre.
his father’s name for the woman of winterhelm. true wife. silver-eyed queen. the only one vahaelarr had ever spoken of with something like reverence. not the mother of faust, not… family, in the way that mattered to bloodline and crown. and she lived?
he did not speak at first. only glanced sidelong at the man, measuring. studying. and then, low:
not here.
he bent to sniff the wind, the faintest twitch in his shoulder betraying thought.
try the northmost mountain.
a pause.
he loves to hide his women there.
he gave no hint that he knew her. no revelation of the cold shock that ran like riverwater through his bones. only the stillness of a bear before snow.