“Everyone has noise.” I stare at the waterfall. “Some of us are just louder about covering it up.”
“With jokes.”
“With jokes, with chaos, with never staying still long enough to think.” I shrug. “If you’re always moving, you don’t have to sit with the quiet.”
“And if you’re always organizing, you don’t have to face the chaos.” Her voice is soft. Understanding. “We’re not that different, are we?”
“Two sides of the same coin.” I turn to look at her. “Just spinning in opposite directions.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment. Then she smiles—slow, genuine, warm.
“Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Thank you for jumping.”
“Please. Like I was going to let the haunted lake be my first experience.” She bumps her shoulder against mine. “I have standards.”
“The sea serpent would be offended.”
“The sea serpent can get over it.”
We sit in comfortable silence, letting the sun dry our clothes. Her head drifts toward my shoulder, not quite touching but close enough that I can feel her warmth.
The dragon purrs.Good. This is good.
For once, I agree.
“Your turn.”
Aisling settles onto the rampart wall, legs dangling over the edge. The sunset paints the mountains in shades of fire—orange and gold and deep burning red. She’s changed into dry clothes, her hair still damp and curling at the ends, and she looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her.
“Five minutes of silence.” She pulls out a pocket watch from somewhere. “Starting now.”
I settle beside her. Our knees brush. “Five minutes of not talking.”
“Those are the rules.”
“I’m going to die.”
“Then you lose the bet.” She’s grinning. “And I get bragging rights for a century. Those were your terms.”
I close my mouth.
The first minute is torture. Every cell in my body screams to fill the void—comment on the sunset, point out the birds, tell her about the time Zyphon got drunk and tried to shadow-travel to the moon.
The second minute, I start to notice things. The way the dying light catches her hair, turning the red to molten copper. The faint freckles scattered across her nose. The peace settling over her features as she watches the sun sink.
She’s beautiful. Not in the obvious way I noticed when I first saw her—wild hair, sharp features, fierce eyes. This is something quieter. The beauty of someone who’s stopped fighting long enough to just exist.
Minute three. She shifts, leaning her shoulder against mine. Not pulling away. Not tense. Just... there. Present. With me.
I stop counting.
“Time.” Her voice is soft. “Five minutes and twenty-three seconds.”
“I made it?”
“You made it.” She shows me the watch, then tucks it away. “How do you feel?”
