Ragnar found Lady Taryn already waiting for him in the guest parlour, seated near the tall windows where sunlight streamed into the space. At his entrance, she rose at once, gathering her skirts with practiced grace, and bowed low.
"Your highness."
Ragnar inclined his head in return, a gesture much less formal than hers. "You needn't stand on my account."
She smiled as she straightened, the lines at the corners of her eyes deepening with the expression.
"Old habits," she said lightly. "And some courtesies deserve to be kept, even among allies."
He gestured for her to sit, taking the chair opposite her a second later. This was not their first of such meeting, nor their tenth. Lady Taryn had been a fixture in his political life long before the queen even began to see him as a formidable threat to Hairan's position and before some of the courtiers learned to whisper his name with caution.
