Evenings in the conservatory.
But the nights are the hardest. Restlessness takes hold again. It’s harder to fall asleep when it’s not in the aftermath of our love. Harder still to settle when I wake trembling without his arms wrapping around me and rough edges of his voice bringing me back to safety.
Ace notices how listless I become during our time; after a few days, he stops coddling me with distraction and simply lets me go, conceding with the expected flair when I depart to my solitude.
Strange. I once found peace only in solitude. Now, every quiet space echoes with his absence.
I write in my journal: details of court life, idle scraps of gossip Ace let slip. If my days are to be so empty, I will at least fill the pages.
But my sketches…
They hold deeper truths. Woodland paths from the village. The glade. Faces I barely remembered. I trace the life I’d lived before, and feel how distant it has become.
And how sharply the future calls to me.
A tug pulls at my chest. If the world feels hollow without him now, how will I survive any life that does not include him? I hate this feeling. The longing, yes, but more so the helplessness.
He loves me, truly, but he did not love some trembling pup whimpering at the door for his return.
No.
It was his flame he adored. In his absence I must learn to tend the fire myself.
I close the journal holding my thoughts and drawings alike and stand. Straightening, I leave the conservatory with no destination in mind, only motion.
I do not think. I only feel.
Walking with my head held high, I quiet the voice inside my mind that tries to interpret every glance or expression as I make my way across the High Hold. If I mean to make Caerhollan my own, I must begin acting like it. I cherish the places that have become mine, but I will not continue to hide away.
I have survived so much. I have endured. Even when I left the village, it was not to retreat but to claim my life for myself. The village did not break me. The wilds did not claim me.
Life here at court may be the greatest trial yet—the hardest pieces of both worlds I left behind, sharpened by even greater challenges.
But I can do this.
I will do this.
Fierce as I feel with my heels striking stone, I temper my boldness. The Solarium buzzes too loudly, as does much of the eastern wing. I turn toward the western corridors—not the chambers where Vale and I share our meals, nor those where he holds his council.
I ponder what quiet stories lie hidden behind the many doors I oncepassed without thought when all my attention was fixed on the man at my side.
I cross the grand entry, the divide between the common halls and those of the Crown. Here, in the broad space meant to welcome, people stream past.
No idle chatter, no lingering.
They move with purpose. Between duty and community, between the world within and the world beyond the gates that so rarely open.
I pause.
A family finds one another. A mother gathers a child at her side. She tucks a stray curl back into the loose braid of a young girl who tugs at her skirt for attention. The father approaches, smiling, lifting the child into his arms, taking a precious moment away from work to hold what truly matters. It stirs something deep within me.
I have survived through grit and determination. But watching them, taking in the quiet beauty unfolding around me, I finally glimpse the true heart of this kingdom, and I allow myself to wonder. Maybe, just maybe, one day I could learn what it means to thrive.
Each step feels lighter as I continue onward. I move through halls lined with doors both familiar and unknown. Ace has shown me the armory. I’ve visited Bracken in the stables more than once, yet the vastness of Caerhollan and all its secrets still calls to me.
I may not roam here as freely as I once did the woods, discovering the world with wild curiosity—but perhaps I can nurture that same curiosity here.
I huff a quiet laugh at myself. It isn’t funny. Perhaps I am simply resigning myself to subtle truths—unburdened by my fears, even if only for a moment.
