1 January, 1369. St Ivan's Palace, Havietten.
"Lucas. Lucas!" Celia kept her voice down to an urgent hiss, even though she felt like bellowing like a barmaid in a tavern until he heard her. She picked up the hem of her heavily beaded dress and kept rushing down the corridor.
She didn't have much time at all to do this, she wasn't even supposed to have left her rooms without telling anyone where she was going.
Still, she knew it needed to be done.
At last, Celia spotted him just as he was about to step into the short colonnade that would lead him to where she knew his apartments were. Even though Lucas had his back facing her, Celia recognised him right away.
The familiarity of his height, his build, the way his hair curled up at the ends and gleamed with flecks of bronze when the sun hit it…
Lord, she'd know that man anywhere.
Lucas turned abruptly at the sound of her voice and raised his brows when he took in her appearance.