“Thank you,” she said, her voice thick. Then, remembering, she signed as well.Beautiful. Thank you.
He nodded once, sharply, and looked away as if embarrassed by the whole exchange. A faint flush crept up the back of his neck—the fearsome Silent Reaper, brought low by a simple act of kindness.
Elodie slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, the warm weight of it settled against her skin like an anchor. She stared at it for a long moment, watching the fire dance within the stone.
You are sad,Gareth signed.Sometimes. When you think no one sees.
The observation landed like a blade between her ribs. She’d thought she was hiding it well—the grief, the homesickness, the constant low-level terror of being stranded more than eight hundred years from everything she knew.
Yes, she admitted.I am far from home. I do not know if I can return.
Gareth’s hands remained still for a long moment.I understand. Exile.
Of course, he did. She’d heard the servants whisper about him—the betrayal, the silence, the years of isolation. He knew what it meant to be cut off from everything that had once been familiar.
Do you miss it?she asked.Your old life?
He considered the question with his typical gravity.Some things. Not others.His hands moved slowly, carefully choosing each sign.The man I was died. The man I am now... he survives.
There was a world of pain in those simple gestures. Elodie wanted to reach for him, to offer some comfort, but she didn’t know if he’d accept it. So she simply signed.The man you are now is worth knowing.
Something passed across Gareth’s face—surprise, perhaps, or something deeper. His eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed, as if fathoming her for the first time. His hands lifted to respond, then stilled.
Instead, he moved to the window, his back to her, his shoulders a rigid line against the fading light.
The silence stretched between them—not uncomfortable, exactly, but heavy with things unsaid. Elodie watched his reflection in the thick glass, saw the way his fingers pressed against the stone of the windowsill.
Finally, without turning, he raised one hand and signed.Tomorrow. More words.
It wasn’t a dismissal, she realized. It was a promise.
She foundthe ring still on her finger when she woke, the fire opal warm against her skin. In the early light, it seemed to glow with its own inner warmth, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Marian arrived with her usual cheerful efficiency, already chattering about the day ahead. “Cook’s in a right state—someone let the cat into the larder again, and there’s Thomas to blame, though he swears on his mother’s grave it wasn’t him. Also, old Wynne is asking after you. Says she has herbs that might help with the sleeping troubles.”
“How did she—” Elodie began, then stopped. Of course, the healer knew. Everyone in this castle seemed to know everything about everyone else. “Tell her I’ll come by after the morning lesson.”
“Aye, my lady.” Marian’s nimble fingers made quick work of the laces. “And my lady? Thomas is already in the hall, practicing his signs. He’s been at it since dawn. Fair drove the cook to distraction with his hand-waving.”
“What was he signing?”
Marian’s grin turned mischievous. “Stupid horse. Stupid horse. Stupid horse. Over and over. I may have created a monster.”
Elodie laughed despite herself. “Then we’d best give him a better vocabulary before he expands to stupid cook.”
When she reached the great hall, she caught Gareth watching her hand from across the room—watching the ring, the fire opal catching the morning light. He looked away quickly, but not before she saw his expression shift—just slightly, just enough to notice.
There was always a battle to be fought. An enemy to vanquish. This day, she supposed, the battle was simply surviving—learning to live in a world that wasn’t her own, with a man who spoke in silence and looked at her like she was something precious. Something worth protecting.
Would she leave him? Return to her own time? She didn’t know. Couldn’t know. The necklace was gone, and with it, perhaps, any hope of finding her way back. But standing here, in this great hall that smelled of smoke and bread, watching the most incredible man she’d ever met sign good morning to a freckled stable boy—she found she wasn’t quite ready to find out.
Good morning,Gareth signed as she approached.Ready?
Always, she signed back.
His mouth quirked—not quite a smile, but close. Closer than she’d seen before.
“We have more students today,” she said aloud, nodding toward the small cluster beginning to gather. Two more guardsmen. A serving woman. The blacksmith’s apprentice, looking terrified but determined.
