Lyndal froze when she found herself standing six feet from the edge of a cliff, then jumped when the door banged close behind her. The scrape of drawbars going back into place set her into a panic.
‘Don’t worry,’ Astin said, pulling her away. ‘He’ll let us back in when we’re done.’
‘Done with what?’ Her eyes went to the turbulent sea below. ‘I’m not climbing down.’
He chuckled. ‘Come. We’ll get a better view farther along.’
She reminded herself to breathe and focused on the hand holding hers. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
‘Here it comes,’ Astin said over his shoulder.
When she looked up, her feet stopped once more. Behind Astin, a pink line marked the horizon. All air left her lungs in one beauty-stricken, reminiscent exhale. Tears prickled her eyes as hope appeared on the skyline before them.
‘I didn’t want you to see it from behind a wall,’ Astin said.
Neither of them spoke for the next few minutes. The only movement was the rise and fall of their cloaks with the ocean breeze. Then Astin walked over to the wall and removed his cloak. He laid it on the ground and gestured for her to come and sit. A smile spread across her face as she realised he had brought her through the wall to watch the sunrise.
‘It’s even better than stars, yes?’ he said when he caught her smile.
‘Yes.’ She walked over and sat down on the cloak beside him. Her arm pressed into his as they leaned their backs against the wall. The warmth from him made her shiver. ‘A nightdress isn’t very practical for a clifftop walk.’
Astin turned and wrapped her cloak tighter around her, tucking it in place. ‘Better?’
It was better, but she knew admitting that would mean the end of his efforts. She shook her head, and he wrapped an arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and shuddered with the instant warmth and comfort.
‘Better?’ he asked.
She nodded, scared to speak and ruin the moment. Then they sat in one of the most comfortable silences she had ever experienced, watching colour take over the sky.
‘Look,’ she said, finally breaking the silence. ‘The first hint of orange.’
He made an appreciative noise, and his hand slid down her arm a little. ‘What’s your last memory of the sun?’
His breath on her hair made tiny bumps break out on her skin. ‘I think I was around eight. It had rained the entire week, and then the sun broke through the heavy cloud just before it set. Never in a million years would I have imagined I wouldn’t see it again for more than a decade.’ She turned her head to look up at him. ‘What about you?’
‘I would have been thirteen. In the north paddock with my sister. I remember her hand pressed to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun.’
Lyndal turned back to the sunrise. ‘It didn’t take us long to miss it. Constant wet stockings and muddy hems. And every time one of us complained, my father would say, “The rain can’t fall forever”. He said that every day for five years, right up until the day King Oswin stood upon the wall and told us all to abandon our god and pray to Belenus. I heard Father tell Mother that night that only a man with no faith left seeks out a new god. It’s the only time I remember hearing fear in his voice.’
‘Well, I don’t think Belenus heard our prayers either.’
She shivered, and Astin’s arm tightened around her, muscle shifting beneath his uniform. Closing her eyes, she committed the moment to memory.
‘You can’t watch a sunrise with your eyes closed,’ he said into her hair.
She opened her eyes and took a breath. ‘Any moment now.’
Colour splashed over the sea right before a spot of radiant gold appeared on the water’s edge.
‘There it is,’ Astin said.
She watched in awe. ‘I can almost feel its warmth.’
‘You know, your hair is something else in this light.’
She looked up at him. ‘As are your eyes. It’s like the sun is rising in them.’
He swallowed, and his eyes travelled down to her lips. ‘I should get you back before anyone notices you’re gone.’
