Vencian opened his mouth with the start of an excuse before he saw her face properly.
The words dried up.
It was Roselys.
Her cheeks were red. It was the sort of color that suggested heat even if he couldn't feel it. A few strands of silver hair had slipped from under her hat. Her eyes took him in with a flatness that made his ribs tighten.
He raised a hand in a half-formed gesture of explanation.
She slapped him.
His head jerked to the side. A sting spread across his cheek. He wondered if hers were still warm or if the slap had cooled them. His own cheek felt warm now too, at least partly.
Roselys let her hand fall back to her side. She held her chin high, as if that slap had been a necessary step to restore her honor.
"Explain," she said. Her voice carried none of the heat on her face.
Vencian straightened. He let out a slow breath and settled on the simplest version that still counted as an answer.
