Night had settled hard over the city.
From the penthouse balcony, the skyline stretched out in jagged silhouettes of glass and steel, every tower studded with cold lights. Wind moved lazily between the buildings, carrying the distant noise of traffic far below.
Galathea Brooks leaned against the balcony railing, gripping the cool metal so tightly her fingers ached.
The city felt too large tonight.
Too indifferent.
Behind her, the sliding door opened.
She didn't turn.
Footsteps crossed the polished floor of the balcony.
Cael Alexander stopped a few feet away.
"You left the infirmary quickly," he said.
Galathea stared at the lights below.
"Yes. I didn't want to be there." She answered
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." The answer came instantly from Galathea.
Too sharp.
The wind tugged at the loose strands of her hair.
Inside her chest, something hot and restless refused to settle.
Cael studied her quietly. "Tansy didn't mean to upset you."
Galathea laughed once.
