Lady Rhea Icewyn did not enter the chamber like a woman seeking approval.
She stepped inside calmly, the door closing behind her with deliberate softness, her posture straight and unyielding.
There was no hesitation in her stride, no nervous glance at the surroundings. She looked as though she had every right to stand there—and knew it.
Calista noticed that immediately.
She was dressed simply for a woman who held the king's favor. No excessive jewels. No heavy embroidery. Her gown was pale blue, trimmed with white fur at the collar and sleeves, the sigil of House Icewyn stitched discreetly at the hem.
Her hair—was braided neatly down her back, a style favored in Frostmere for women who preferred function over ornament.
Rhea inclined her head, just enough to acknowledge rank without surrendering dignity.
"My lady Calista," she said evenly. "Thank you for granting me an audience. I trust you are settling in well."
Calista did not rise. She did not return the courtesy.
