Each step felt less like forward motion and more like an emotional excavation, leaving behind the weight of expectation, the pretense.
As I reached the top, an ironbound arched door loomed like a maw. I pressed my hand against it, expecting resistance, but the door groaned reluctantly and opened, revealing a cold breath of air more chilling than anticipated.
The rooftop garden spilled out like something caught between a dream and a graveyard.
It wasn’t like the castle’s lower courtyards, manicured and prim. This space had been left to the wild breath of the gods. Stone planters lined the balustrade, overflowing with strange white roses and thorny vines that curled like ribs around statues long worn by weather. The gods carved into them were unfamiliar. Not Kaelor. Not Vireya. Their faces had been devoured by time and moss, their features erased as if the stone itself had forgotten.
Frost glazed the pathways.
Clouds veiled the sky above, violet-tinged and heavy, but the stars still blinked faintly, above the low-hanging moon.
I moved through the garden slowly, running my fingers over vines as I passed. A few roses had already withered, their petals curling inward like secrets.
The frigid air bit at my cheeks, but I didn’t care.
Because I could finally breathe.
I walked to the edge of the terrace, the cool balustrade beneath my fingertips. Far below, the sea lapped at the rocky shore. The lights of Caerthaine shimmered like broken glass reflecting the stars.
Up here, I didn’t have to smile. I didn’t have to wear silks or rings or fear.
No one was touching me. No one was watching.
No one was asking me to become anything. I was just me.
“I miss who I was becoming,” I whispered aloud.
And for a moment, the wind didn’t answer.
But it didn’t argue either.
Behind me, a soft sound broke the hush.
A footfall. Measured. Familiar.
I turned toward the sound, half-expecting a guard, or worse, a shadow where no person should be.
Instead, it was him.
Erindor stepped into the garden’s moonlit hush like he belonged there. Though his stance was tense, his arms were crossed over his chest. His breath steamed slightly in the air, but he wore no cloak, only his undershirt and the weight of a long day.
“I didn’t expect to see you out here,” I said, trying to swallow the flutter that rose in my chest at his physique.
He raised a brow.
“Didn’t expect to be followed,” I added more softly this time, unsure why my voice had dipped.
“You didn’t cover your tracks very well.” His tone was light, but his gaze searched my face. “Even Jasira would’ve noticed.”
I laughed, a soft, breathy exhalation of surprise escaping me before I could contain it. I hadn’t laughed in days, not like that.
His eyes softened. “I miss that,” he said.
I gave a disbelieving blink, and my heart lurched, a frantic, tripping rhythm. His gaze darted away almost instantly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
A comfortable silence stretched between us.
Erindor moved to the balustrade a few feet away from me. He didn’t lean on it, but stood steady, silent, the way he always did when he didn’t know how to put something into words.
