The night air is chill when Kate steps out into the moonlight from the large oak door to the South wing of the castle. She tugs the edges of her scarf more tightly around her, briefly wishing she had the freedom to fly as her eyes land upon the winged pattern splayed across the gauzy material. Tonight she must settle for being quick on her feet. Taking a breath, she tiptoes down the steps and sets out across the flagstones, her footsteps echoing loudly against the surrounding stone walls and in her own chest. She doesn’t think anyone will notice her; the Beltane feast will go on long into the wee hours, and Father is already in his cups. Even the guards will be lax, many of them given leave to join the celebrations. The guests may spill into the gardens, but these will be paramours not wishing to be spied either, their eyes on one another.
Rounding a large flowering bush at the end of the walk, Kate walks briskly into the wet grass of one of the elaborate castle gardens, heading toward the orchards. She has brought the bouquet which accompanied the note; if she is indeed apprehended, she will say something about admiring flowers, unable to sleep. A poor excuse, but far less scandalous than the truth. The lawns are brightly lit from the windows of the Great Hall, and as Kate swishes past underneath the panes, she stirs up myriad tiny insects from the green; they rise into the illumination like so many fairies twinkling in the night. Fireflies join in curiously, and it looks almost as if the stars themselves have descended upon the princess, dancing alongside her as she hurries toward her clandestine rendezvous. Kate turns her gaze toward the windows aloft, her face lit by the glow of a thousand candles in the Hall, and the moon beyond the Tower. A soft breeze tousles her hair and urges her on. If only Father understood… if only she could make him see that she was capable of making her own decisions. She knows in her heart that Alec is a good soul. He has magic. He has gifted her a pendant which contains the Sun. He will give her the world.
The gate to the orchard creaks upon its hinges when she tries it; at the same moment across the courtyard a door opens, spilling golden light and the sounds of revelry into the quiet night. Gasping despite herself, Kate steps sideways into the narrow opening and soundlessly slams the gate shut behind her. She places one hand on the smooth wood, the flowers clutched tightly in the other, and rests her forehead against the door, breathing deeply. Behind her, a familiar voice causes her flesh to prickle, and she shivers involuntarily.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
She turns, dropping the bouquet.