Regan had no claim to hover over Cassian. She’d seen him when called for, and every time had come with rushing footsteps pulled back to be just short of a run. Her responsibility was not to fret over his illness, after all. It was to train Othello; that was the best way she could help him, and so that is what she threw all of herself into. Perplexingly, Othello had proven to have the makings of a seasoned fighter, a Nevermerean asset, and—even more shocking—a loyal compatriot.

But how deeply that loyalty ran remained the nagging question. The thing that kept Regan up (well, besides Othello’s snoring).

Regan entered and stopped in the middle of the room. The practiced professionalism of the soldier remained in her posture; her shoulders were pulled back, her hand clasped neatly behind her back and her chin sharply directed forward. But Regan’s eyes would be wide and shining, an eager smile struggling to keep itself contained.

“You look well, your majesty.” And he did. The first time she’d seen him in his illness, he’d been hardly able to stand. Now, Cassian’s gaze was just as gripping as it always had been.

The full moon was coming. He could feel it in his bones. In his bones and in other little things…like right now, his sense of smell. It was years of training that kept him from wrinkling his nose.

“You smell like him.” There was something in his voice. Disapproval. But just what that disapproval was borne of, well, a creative mind would certainly have some ideas, but a simpler individual might assume something base like anger or irritation.

Cassian knew himself well enough to know he had to check himself. He parted his lips as if to say something else, but then turned back to the window to give himself a moment.

Internally, Regan recoiled from Cassian's disapproval as if she’d just been smacked. Regan jumped when her king called, waiting for word that she might be needed, and his reproach was like a needle taken to the inflated balloon of her enthusiasm. The hopeful shine in Regan’s eyes was replaced by distant veins of copper. Her smile wilted and dropped.

"Hard not to,” Regan said, managing (for the most part) to keep the reactionary, confused shame and irritation from her tone. Wasn't it the king that had put them in close quarters? Perhaps it had been punishment—at the time, that's what Regan had thought—but it had turned out to be essential to the whole partnership, or whatever it was. The closeness had built trust. And in trusted hands, Othello could be a powerful weapon indeed. Cassian turned from her, and she took a tiny half-step forward.

"He's done well. Is doing well." Regan offered, trying to recapture the light in her eyes she'd entered the room with.

Cassian took a stabilizing breath. It was not like him to let slip his unbecoming thoughts. He never would have done it with anyone else, but this was Regan.

“I am pleased to hear it.” If she didn’t recognize the change in attitude, then she would at least take security in the resumption of his usual demeanor and tone. Distant, as if he were contemplating the fate of his kingdom even while speaking with her.

Cassian turned, expression as untouchable as ever.

“If he is doing well then it is time to give him a base pay with which he can afford a house for his family. I will have a soldier bring them.” He watched her and waited for how she might react to this.

When Cassian turned, he’d see Regan had drawn a few steps closer—not purposefully but as a moth drawn to the distant moon. The wilted edges of her smile rose again and the light rekindled in her eyes. At his offer, her smile twitched a hair wider, though she quickly stopped its spread. Othello deserved it, and Regan was glad to see his good work rewarded. But she was equally glad that she might have a room to herself again.

“Yes, your majesty. Thank you.” Regan responded with a quick nod. She said nothing more, eyes fixed on Cassian as if she were saving up the vision for when she left him again.

A contained smile. Whatever it was Cassian was poking at, he had received his answer. Something a tad more pleasant softened his face a fraction of an inch.

“And I,” he said, matter-of-factly, always business, never personal, no, “want to increase security in the castle until the object I’ve commissioned from Arynn Frey is completed. I cannot assumed the Eldouir are not expecting a Nevermerean attack, and I would not put it past them to strike first.” He fell silent, though there remained something pointed in his gaze on her.

Regan softened along with him, though the unwinding of the tension in her shoulders was far more visible than any change in Cassian. At the mention of the Eldouir she grew very still. Hiram. Regan had seen him in Coheed, and the man had lived up to every nightmare Lorendalers and Nevermereans had cast him in. The thought he might come for Cassian—

Regan thought she understood. Perhaps her conclusion was colored by her own hopes and wishes, but in her mind it was clear.

"Wherever you need me." Simple as that.

Cassian gave a nod of his head.

“Good.” He didn’t need to elaborate now. It didn’t matter. There was another, more pressing matter.

“Othello has improved. Have you?” Clearly he was revisiting the result of the last mission he has sent her on.

The burning shame Regan had felt the day she'd brought Othello home sprung up once again--only this time, she didn't let it consume her. Regan's eyes hardened, her shoulders pulled back, and she became more the soldier and less the puppy-eyed servant that both sat waiting for Cassian's orders.

"I have, your majesty." She said it with confidence. "I'm sure I have much more to learn, but-" Regan searched for a moment, before, "I understand the stakes now. My purpose here. I'm ashamed to say I didn't before, I was just trying to be..." Regan's cheeks burned a little, as her eyes bounced to the ground, "Impressive." After a moment, she redirected her gaze to look at him directly.

"But it won't happen again." Desperate, was a word for the look in Regan's eyes. Resolved was another.

Cassian let a punctuating silence follow her declaration. His gaze never left her, as if he were scrutinizing the sincerity of what she had said. Only after a silence had stretched long enough to make the average individual uncomfortable would Cassian say,

“I have an opportunity for you to make good on your words.” He moved towards his desk, beckoning her closer.

“The Minister of Foreign Affairs in Cambria is getting to the bottom of secret branding of Cambrian women involved with Nevermerean men. She is getting to it, but she is not there, and I want this matter finished yesterday.” He gave himself a moment to choose his phrasing.

“I want you to take Othello and together finish this matter. Stop and detain the culprit, and from there I will decide her fate.” Because it was surely a Cambrian. If it was a Nevermerean then they would face a harsher punishment.

“You will leave after the military events, and I expect you to return promptly. Certainly before the end of the season.” There. It would give her plenty of time to consider her course and not let history repeat itself.

He shouldn’t have had to add this, but he did.

“Utmost stealth is required.”

In the beginning, Regan held her breath during Cassian's extended silences. They had been painful, tortuous moments where her mind had run wild. Now, they simply were. Regan's eyes widened a little as Cassian started to speak. Cambria. If the rumors were to be believed, it was a powder keg waiting to explode. Regan wouldn't let herself become the spark - not again.

"Yes, your majesty. It will be done." It had to be.

An edge entered Cassian’s eyes, one that conveyed the severity of the situation, and how essential it was for her to be successful. Indeed, Cambria was a keg of powder, and Cassian was doing what he could to remove its lighting cord, break its walls, and disperse the powder into the wind. As soon as Cambria became a liability was the moment Cassian would have no need of the territory’s occupants. The last thing he wanted in his legacy was genocide, but if it was best for Nevermere…

The king was finished with that matter. All that needed saying was said. He released it with a quiet sigh and let his eyes span Regan’s person, examining her health and state of togetherness.

Regan let the edge in Cassian's gaze sink in, let it leave a mark so that she wouldn't lose sight of the matter at hand in a glorious blaze of fire. Still, she was glad when it was over. Glad when Cassian exhaled and she could do the same. Regan took another drifting step forward as Cassian looked her over. She was well--perhaps better than she'd ever been. The hours had been long, but Regan looked stronger for them. Regan smiled at him, finally unable to keep her pleasure to be there from her lips.