The garden path stretched before them, its neat stones bordered by trimmed hedges that whispered faintly in the breeze. Anneliese fell into step beside Elowyn, her movements careful, as though every gesture might be weighed.
For a time, they walked in silence, the steady splash of the fountain fading behind them. Elowyn's stride was unhurried yet exact—like someone who had long ago mastered the art of conserving energy for sharper things. Her attention lingered not on the blooms or the sky, but on Anneliese, studying without staring.
