Eventually the topic turned to the estate’s history.
“Mrs. Thorne — Caelum’s mother — she loved this place,” Eleanor said quietly, glancing around the greenhouse with something like fondness. “She was warm. Pleasant. Treated us fairly, even when the world outside was… difficult. She spent hours in here, talking to the plants like they could hear her. She brought Master Caelum here often when he was small. He’d help her prune the roses.”
Lyra’s heart ached with curiosity. “What was she like? I mean… as a mother?”
Eleanor’s expression softened. “Kind. Patient. She adored him. You could see it in how she looked at him. Like he was the only light in her world.”
Lyra hesitated, then asked gently, “What happened to her? What could have made her want to… to do what she did? When she had a beautiful child like Caelum?”
Eleanor’s face tightened. She glanced around, lowering her voice. “I don’t know the full story, miss. None of us do. But… she jumped. From the cliffs on this very estate. It was a terrible day. Master Caelum was only fourteen. They were very close. It’s best not to bring it up with him. The memory still pains him deeply.”
Lyra’s stomach twisted with shock. She nodded quickly. “I won’t. Thank you for telling me. I promise I’ll keep it to myself.”
Eleanor relaxed visibly, offering a small, genuine smile. “I need to get back to work, but… you’re free to ask me about the greenhouse anytime. Or help in the kitchen, if you’d like. It would be nice to have someone to talk to.”
Lyra grinned, bright and excited. “I’d love that. Thank you, Eleanor. Really.”
The older woman gave a small nod and slipped away, leaving Lyra alone among the fragrant plants, heart lighter than it had been in days. She had made a friend — even if the woman was twice her age. It felt like a small, precious victory.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Caelum found her in the observatory.
She had wandered back there after the greenhouse, drawn to the quiet light and the endless view of the sea. The sun poured through the glass dome, warm and golden, catching her dark red hair and the pale lavender of her sundress. She had curled up on the chaise, one arm tucked under her head, eyes half-closed in a peaceful doze. The light made her look almost ethereal — like a pure angel bathed in warmth, soft and unguarded.
Caelum paused in the doorway, watching her for a long moment. His gray eyes softened at the edges, a rare, private expression crossing his face before he crossed the room.
He leaned down and kissed her gently — first her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips.
Lyra stirred, blinking up at him with a sleepy smile.
“It’s time for lunch,” he murmured, voice low and fond. “I thought we could eat outside today.”
Lyra’s face lit up with genuine delight. She sat up and kissed him deeply, arms wrapping around his neck.
“This is so thoughtful,” she whispered against his lips. “Thank you.”
Caelum’s smile was small but pleased. He helped her to her feet, then led her down the winding cliff path to the private beach below.
They descended the narrow stone staircase carved into the cliff itself. The wind hit them the moment they stepped outside — sharp, briny, tugging at her lavender sundress and whipping her dark red hair across her face. The footing was uneven, loose pebbles shifting under her sandals, the path steep and winding down toward the private cove far below. Lyra’s steps faltered once on a loose stone. Caelum’s hand was there instantly, steady at the small of her back, guiding her without a word. She leaned into the touch, relying on him physically even in this small pocket of “freedom,” her body trusting his strength completely.
The beach at the bottom was a narrow strip of black sand and smooth stones, sheltered by the towering cliffs that rose like ancient guardians on either side. Waves rolled in with a low, constant roar, foam hissing as it retreated across the dark shore. The air tasted of salt and cold stone, crisp and alive. The sun was warm on her skin, the wind carrying the faint cry of seabirds circling overhead.
Caelum led her to a sheltered patch of sand, spreading out the picnic blanket with precise, practiced movements. He had prepared everything himself — a thoughtful gesture that made her heart flutter. The basket contained delicate sandwiches layered with fresh herbs and soft cheese, crisp apple slices drizzled with honey, ripe figs, a small wheel of creamy goat cheese, warm crusty bread still fragrant from the oven, and a chilled bottle of crisp white wine infused withelderflower and citrus. He poured her a glass, the liquid pale gold in the sunlight.
They continued eating, the conversation flowing easily between them under the warm afternoon sun. The ocean sparkled far below, waves catching the light in brilliant shards of blue and silver, the gentle crash of water against the black sand creating a soothing, rhythmic backdrop. Lyra leaned against Caelum’s shoulder, her pale lavender sundress fluttering lightly in the breeze, a half-eaten fig still in her fingers. The picnic basket sat open between them, the remains of the meal they had prepared together scattered across the blanket — tender herb-crusted fish, roasted root vegetables, and the bright salad — all of it tasting better out here in the open air.
They started with light topics, the kind of easy banter that felt new and precious between them.
“What’s your favorite book?” Lyra asked, tilting her head up to look at him, her green eyes bright with genuine curiosity. “You have so many in the library and the observatory. I’ve never seen so many in one place before.”
Caelum’s mouth curved in a small, rare smile as he fed her another slice of fig, his thumb brushing her lower lip. “I like the old ones. The ones with maps and diagrams and impossible ideas.The Cartographer’s Lament— it’s about a man who tries to map the entire world and ends up mapping his own mind instead. It’s ridiculous and beautiful at the same time.”
Lyra’s eyes lit up. “I secretly read something like that once. I wasn’t allowed much as a child — books were considered dangerous distractions — but I found a few hidden away. I’d sneak them under my bed and read by candlelight until my eyes burned. I was terrified of getting caught, but I couldn’t stop. There was one story about a girl who could talk to stars… I read it so many times the pages started to fall out.”
Caelum chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “A naughty vixen even then. Sneaking forbidden stories under the covers. I can picture you doing that — small, stubborn, refusing to be kept in the dark.”
Lyra blushed deeply, ducking her head with a shy laugh. “I was scared every single night. I’d hide the book the moment I heard footsteps. But I couldn’t stop. And sometimes… the stories would just appear. Under my bed. A new one every few weeks. I never figured out who was leaving them. I used to think I had my own guardian angel looking out for me, even in that cold, cruel place.”
