The palace had a strange stillness before dawn — the kind that made every step echo just a little too loudly, as if the walls themselves were listening.
Kaerth stood in the garden archway, his fingers curled around the cold stone, watching the faint glow of torches along the far wall. He hadn't slept all night. The wind was sharp, curling around his neck like cold fingers, but he didn't move. He knew Ignareth would come before the first bell.
"You're out early," came the voice from behind him.
Kaerth turned. Ignareth was leaning casually against the archway's side, dressed not in his usual formal attire but in dark, close-fitting clothes meant for moving quickly.
"You're leaving?" Kaerth asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ignareth stepped forward, close enough that the heat from his body broke the chill of the wind. "Not without you."
Kaerth frowned. "Where?"
