Corin found her in the garden not long after the sun had risen.
Emery sat upon her favored bench beside the stone balustrade, watching the waterfalls below catch the pale gold of morning. Light spilled across the rushing water in trembling ribbons, and she sat very still, thinking about nothing and everything all at once.
She thought of Zekar, still sleeping in the chamber they now shared.
Of Mira, who had smiled the day before—truly smiled, not the guarded curve she had worn for so many years.
Of the council, and the strange quiet that had fallen over the chamber when she had spoken.
And of the one thing she had not told a single soul. The way the water seemed to notice her now.
"Child."
Corin's voice was soft, yet it carried easily through the garden air. He stood a few paces away, leaning upon his cane, pale eyes fixed upon her face with the patient attention of a man who had lived long enough to recognize quiet changes.
