Morning came softer than I expected.
For once, there were no bells ringing, no shouts from the courtyards, no ministers waiting with scrolls thicker than my arms. Just the faint chatter of sparrows in the roof beams and the quiet hiss of the brazier dying down.
I'd been sitting by the window for a while, letting the pale light wash over the pages of a book I wasn't really reading, when Lin Wei padded over. Barefoot, hair sticking up from sleep, his face still swollen with the kind of dreams children keep to themselves.
He didn't say anything—he never did—but his fingers tugged at mine, insistent in a way that didn't need words. I closed the book, slid it aside, and let him lead me. His grip was warm, small but unyielding.
"Where are we going?" I murmured, though I knew I wouldn't get an answer.
