Akhile found Norman where she expected him to be.
The orchard was quieter in the evening, the sun hanging low, about to set, warm above the trees. Shadows stretched lazily across the terrain, and the air smelled of a hard earned day.
Norman knelt at the base of a fig tree, adding manure and cultivating the ground. He looked up when he heard her approach, surprise flashed across his face before softening into a smile.
"There you are," he said. "I was beginning to think you'd been swallowed by the old folks."
She exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing for a bit. "I needed to be somewhere I wasn't expected to be a human sacrifice."
"Then you came to the right place." He stood, brushing soil from his hands. "The trees don't care who you are. Only whether you show up."
She laughed quietly. "I guess I am the biggest fan of trees right now."
They walked between the rows together. Norman handed her a peach without comment. She bit into it. "Hmm, these are so good."
"Long day?" he asked gently.
She considered lying. Then didn't.
"Yes."
He didn't ask further.
They sat on a bench next to the fig tree instead, backs against the sunset, shade cool against their skin. For a while, neither of them spoke. Norman plucked at the grass absently, letting the silence settle comfortably between them.
"You look tired," he said eventually.
"I feel… heavier," she admitted. "I feel a lot of things are happening against my will."
Norman frowned slightly, concern creasing his brow. "That doesn't sound fair."
"Nothing about this place is," she said. "It's beautiful. But it asks for a lot."
He studied her face, as if memorising it. "I can only imagine what it's like for you. I mean, my brother and I were born into a dynasty. Sometimes I feel my life has been decided for me because of the stakes."
The words were meant to comfort her, but Akhile frowned.
Akhile smiled anyway. "Does that make it okay?"
"Here," he said simply. "Take off your boots, sink your feet in the earth."
Norman knelt, took Akhile's boots off, and placed them next to the bench. "How does that feel?" he said, looking up at her face for her reaction.
She leaned her back against the tree, closing her eyes. The earth felt grounding, like she was connected to a force, recharging her body.
When Norman's hand brushed hers, it was tentative. Asking. She let her fingers curl around his.
"I feel, at home…there's something familiar about it."
"You can take charge of your free will if you want. You can turn this to your advantage."
Akhile sank deeper into the soil, squeezing his hand harder. If she stayed here long enough, she thought, she might forget that the betrothal under the blood moon was coming at all.