Rhaegar stared at Lorelai's flushed face, his lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line.
He was always like this—silent, unreadable, and maddeningly evasive. He could have spoken plainly, but he refused to do so unless she asked first. And, once again, she found herself with no choice but to insist, to coax clarity out of his cryptic words.
"What... what did you mean?" she asked again, her voice faltering as she squeezed her eyes shut, overcome with embarrassment.
The repetition of his own words felt foolish to her. She should have been more eloquent, more poised, instead of letting her tangled thoughts spill out so clumsily. Heat flushed her face, creeping up her neck and tingling at the tips of her ears.
The tent was deathly silent, save for her own uneven breaths. Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, but Rhaegar still did not answer.
