When Lillian's standing--first interpreted as a movement to stretch her legs now that the chore was complete--turned into pacing, Ordhan moved to draw himself to his feet. He hoped to still her wanderings, perhaps with a hand on her arm or a touch to her shoulder, but her next words halted him before he was upright.
He blinked at her, surprised etched in the subtle change of his features. Given her hesitation, it was quite the offer. "It might be difficult to arrange, but it would be very helpful in making things clearer." Even as he spoke, his heart was in his throat. It would be almost too late by then. In the minute sliver of a chance that he recant his oath, what could he do then? The city and all the eyes in and around it would be so close. Even if no one caught wind of the meeting itself, it would be drawing Azabeth almost to the very place she hoped to flee from--
No. It was much too soon to be thinking along those terms.
Lillian had sat in front of him again by the time these thoughts had passed through his mind. "I am glad that you spoke with me," he added, the tremor of nervousness almost completely hidden. That did not mean she would again on her own free will. It would remain to be seen how the events of the day would affect them, or the entire company, for that matter, though in this moment the former seemed both more important and more precarious.
"I want--" He faltered. "I do not want to be mistaken." It was a pathetic comment, a sign of uncertainty he did not want to admit he was feeling.