“East wing,” she replied.
“Then let’s go to the eastern tower. It’s more dangerous since we’ll have to sneak past him.”
“That’s wicked,” Isa reprimanded.
“This whole idea is wicked,” Aden pushed back.
Her only response was to start walking away from him down the hallway.
Following her through the dark mansion, Aden could hear her holding in her giggles. Or rather, he could hear her unsuccessfully attempting to hold in her giggles. She seemed in a lighter mood than he would have guessed. If she needed to believe his curse could be broken in order to ease her conscience in leaving him, he would not correct her.
Whatever the cause, her laughter was contagious, and he soon found himself unable to hold in his own chuckles.
“Shhhh,” she said, pointing to a door on their left. “That’s Erich’s room.” She made a big deal out of walking on her toes to stifle her footsteps.
Aden saw the lantern sway perilously right before she tripped over her own feet. He reached out to catch her arm, and they both dissolved into a fit of giggles.
Not waiting to hear if they had roused anyone from sleep, they dashed the rest of the way down the hallway and climbed up the tower stairs.
Coming out into the open air of the top room, she turned to face him. “Let the secret meeting commence!” She set down the basket on the center of the floor and opened it to reveal a mini feast. “I stole this from the kitchen after Blanca went to bed.”
“Do you think she’ll miss it?” Aden asked, sitting on the floor next to her.
“No. I plan on blaming you if she does, though.” Isa handed him a piece of meat wrapped in bread.
“What did your older siblings do during these secret meetings they would have without you?” she asked.
“Isn’t that kind of the entire point?” he replied. “I wasn’t there, so I don’t know.”
“What do you wish they did? That is what we should do tonight.”
Aden looked at her in the lamplight. She was almost ethereal in the way his eyes could only see the glowing shape of her light robe. Her dark hair was loose, puffing out in a voluminous mass of curls that swallowed the light rather than reflected it. He imagined her face once again, daring, slightly reckless as she snuck around her own house with him. Smiling, bold, and confident.
“I’m afraid the things I want to do tonight are very different than the things they did.” His voice had deepened, taking on a gravelly texture that was close to a growl. “What did you have planned?”
“I mostly just wanted to build one last memory of you. To speak of the things we have not finished discussing, or to read together again.”
“One last perfect memory,” he repeated. “If only things had been different and we had forever to look forward to.”
“Maybe our forever will live on in the pages of someone else’s myth.” She looked up at him over the lantern. He wished he could see her expression. “Tonight,” she said, “let’s give ourselves the luxury of the one thing we were never allowed to do.”
“What’s that?” he whispered.
“Tonight,” she said, “let’s dream.”
Dream. He swallowed. That would be a luxury they had never allowed themselves. “The proper place for dreaming is under the stars,” he replied. The small room had begun to feel smaller, making him uncomfortable.
He stood, leading her through one of the tall open-air windows that surrounded the tower room. They stepped out onto the rampart of the tower. It was a small ledge, wide enough to stand on, with a waist-high solid rock railing.
The tall mountains to the south cut a jagged line against the twinkling stars. He could see the stars clearly, and his breathing became more comfortable as his eyes relaxed.
He sat down, leaning his back against the stone wall of the tower. The railing in front of him was short enough that he could easily see over it.
He looked back up at Isa.
She stepped closer and sat down next to him. “I’m cold,” she whispered, nudging his arm.
He lifted it around her shoulders.
