She passed through the inner court without slowing. Ikari followed. They moved through a working section of the palace grounds-carpenters shaping beams, smiths hammering steel, carts creaking under the weight of supplies. The air rang with labor. Wood chips scattered across stone. Hot metal hissed when quenched. None of it seemed to reach her.
"My lady, please," Ikari said, raising his voice just enough to carry over the noise. "I could be punished for this. At least tell me where you are going."
No answer. So he did the only thing he was allowed to do. He kept walking. They passed through a narrow gateway, and the world changed. Noise fell away.
A short bridge stretched ahead, trees lining both sides like quiet sentinels. Their branches were dusted with snow, bending slightly under the weight. Beneath the bridge lay the lake that wrapped around much of the inner court-dark water, slow-moving, alive.
Ikari frowned. By this time of year, lakes were usually frozen. This one wasn't. They crossed in silence. At the far end, stone steps led down toward the shore. Miyo descended and approached the water, choosing a spot beneath a wide-limbed tree. She sat, drawing her robe close. Ikari stopped several paces behind her. He remained standing. There was a long silence. Long enough for him to take in his surroundings.
The lake breathed life into everything around it. Birds darted between branches. Small animals rustled in the undergrowth. The trees drank deeply from the water, their roots hidden beneath moss and snow. The wind carried the clean scent of winter and something faintly sweet from the bark. It was beautiful. It was also cold.
"My lady," Ikari said carefully, "aren't you worried they might be looking for you? We left the palace unannounced."
She didn't respond. His concern slowly gave way to something quieter. Admiration. He had seen many people in his life-merchants, soldiers, nobles-but none like her. Even in silence, she commanded space.
The wind stirred the surface of the lake and swept across her face, lifting strands of her hair that had escaped their binding. Straw-black. Black as the night sky. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Ikari noticed.
He spotted an old stump nearby. Drawing his sword, he began to cut at it, intending to gather enough dry wood for a small fire. Progress was slow. Then her voice snapped through the air.
"What are you doing?"
Ikari turned. She had risen slightly, fury flashing in her green eyes, catching the sunlight.
"Well," he said, sheathing his blade halfway, "since we are out here and it's a bit cold, I thought I'd make a fire. To keep you warm."
"I don't need a fire."
"You say that," Ikari replied honestly, "but you're folding your arms and legs."
Her eyes narrowed.
"I am fine. I came here for silence. That's why I told you not to follow me. If you are going to be here, then be quiet."
Ikari inclined his head. They remained like that for some time. She sat. He stood guard. The wind grew sharper. Her robe fluttered, but it wasn't enough. Morning winds were cruel this close to water.
"My lady," Ikari began softly, unable to help himself, "I know how it feels, but you can't stay out here in the cold. Inside is warm-"
She turned her head slowly, studying him as though he had spoken in a foreign tongue.
"How could you possibly know how I feel?"
Ikari opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He felt the shift immediately-the tightening in her posture, the edge returning to her voice.
"Do you know what it means to be a noble, sheep boy?"
The words struck cleanly. Ikari stiffened. Her voice rose, no longer restrained.
"Since I was old enough to walk, I have been taught how to stand, how to speak, how to eat, how to breathe properly in front of others. Every step I take is watched. Every word I say is weighed."
She gestured sharply toward the palace behind them.
"There are rules for everything. Rules that follow me from room to room. Expectations that never sleep."
She let out a bitter laugh.
"You wake up when you wish. You go where you please. No boundaries"
Her eyes burned into his.
"I am told who I may speak to. What I may wear. When I may smile. Even how long I am allowed to grieve."
Her hands trembled at her sides.
"And my stepmother-" she paused, jaw tightening, "-she watches me like a hawk, looks at me as though I am a little girl, just like others. Every mistake is remembered. Every silence is questioned."
Ikari opened his mouth. She cut him off.
"You know nothing of this."
Her voice dropped, dangerous and quiet.
"Nothing."
She turned away from him.
"And if you know what is good for you," she added coldly, facing the lake, "you will stay out of my business."
Silence returned. Ikari hesitated. Then, slowly, he moved forward and sat beside her, mirroring her posture. Not too close. Close enough to be heard. He kept his voice calm.
"My lady... I may not be noble. But I do know what it means to have responsibilities forced on you. To be restricted."
She didn't look at him. He continued anyway.
"My parents make me guard sheep all day. No time to play with friends. I follow my father to the market and back. I help my mother with chores. There is always something that needs doing."
He smiled faintly. "And my mother can be... well, motherly."
She glanced at him despite herself.
"Last year, during the season's end celebrations, she forced us into heavy clothes and warned us not to run around because we'd ruin them. Said they were expensive. Foiled all our plans."
He let out a small laugh. "I was angry. Very angry."
Then his tone softened.
"But I was also grateful. I come from a place with many orphans. Many children don't have anyone to tell them what to wear, or where to go, or when to come home."
He looked at the lake. "So even though we live different lives, my lady... we both have mothers who care for us."
She finally turned to him. Her expression had changed. Not rage. Compassion.
"She is my stepmother," Miyo said quietly. "Not my real mother."
Ikari nodded slowly.
"The joy of yours," she added, "is that your mother is truly your mother."
Ikari chuckled.
"My lady," he said, shaking his head, "you might be surprised."