I drift in and out of wakefulness, never quite asleep as rain pounds and the wind howls like something hungry.
My thoughts fray. I stop trying to hold them.
Eventually, sleep takes me. And when I wake, the storm is gone. Sunlight spills across my bed.
Soria sits nearby, mending a fallen hem. She glances up as I sit up. “Thank the stars. You’ve been asleep since dawn. I checked on you twice. You wouldn’t wake. I’ve seen what these nights have taken from you. You needed the rest.”
I blink into the brightness. Outside, the sky is clear. Blue and warm. Yet the ache beneath my ribs remains. Sharper. Pointed. Pulling.
I cross the room, my feet sinking into the cold stone. There, beside the mirror, a gown of sapphire hangs in wait.
For me. For the solstice.
For tonight.
The clouds have parted, and so has the weight in my chest. Vale returns today.
I breeze through the Solarium in a simpler gown, smiling as brightly as the sun. Tonight will be the shortest night.
In the village, they mark it with food and dancing. Here, Ace tells me, quiet prayers at dawn are tradition.
But me?—
I always greet the solstice when the moon is high, at its pinnacle and when the night is most alive. A moment I longed to share with Vale.
Little did I know, that moment would not come.
That something else would be found in its place.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Iam still full of optimism as Soria helps me into the stunning gown—delicate silver embroidery shimmering like starlight against a midnight sky. My fingers ghost over the fabric, half fearing it might vanish beneath my touch.
Vale has not yet returned.
Still, I want to be ready the moment he does. I find myself restless in my chambers as the sun begins to dip low into the sky.
I pick at the plate Soria set aside for me. Rather than meet me with worry or concern, emotions I might feel responsible to soothe, she holds me with care. Real, earnest care. Her signature command threaded through each word.
“I promised him I’d look after you,” she says, not quite chastising. “I can’t have him return to find you in such a state. Eat. If not for me, then for him.”
It should have comforted, as her words so often do. Instead, it opens a hollow where he should be.
I leave soon after and walk through the halls, each step heavy, laboring as if moving against a current deep enough to drown. Knots twist and burn in my shoulders, though the worst work I’ve done since arriving has been sleeping through the night.
My feet shuffle along. Despite sleeping through the morning, the exhaustion is consuming. I would be inclined to climb back into bed, but that is the last place I want to be. He will be here any moment.
He has to be.
I make my way toward the conservatory, my own private sanctuary. I pray I can find peace there.
Heaving the doors open, I breathe it in. Air, water, earth. It’s intoxicating. For a moment I simply stand, letting it wash over me. It never feels as though nature is caged here. This is a place where I can cherish it, nurture it, and be renewed in return.
Water beads down the glass panels. The ornate tile is rough enough I will not slip, despite the ever-present damp. This is why I keep only journals and blank parchment here to sketch upon. I do not mind the pages curling with only my own scribbles across them.
I take my time entering the space, walking the perimeter.
Today was the first break in the storms—not only across the mountain but within myself. Now, as the hours pass and Vale has not returned, I feel the clouds rolling back in.
