The week at Greystone passed faster than Eleanor wished it to. Each morning was filled with laughter in the gardens, and each night she fell asleep with her heart still racing from the day's adventures. But as the carriage was brought to the front gates on her final morning, the weight of leaving pressed against her chest.
She stood on the gravel path, her small hands clasped tightly together, trying to keep her eyes from welling up. William was the first to break the silence.
"You can't cry, Eleanor," he said, though his own voice wavered. He thrust something into her palm — a smooth pebble painted in red and blue. "Here. I found it in the maze. It will remind you of Greystone. And when you come back, I'll show you all the other treasures we've hidden."
Eleanor closed her fingers around it, her throat tight. "I'll keep it always."
William grinned, though his eyes shone. "And don't worry. We'll write letters. I'll make sure you don't forget us. Not even for a day." He puffed his chest. "I promise."
Theodore, who had been standing quietly beside his brother, stepped forward at last. His dark hair caught the morning light, and his gaze softened as it rested on her. In his hand, he held a small ribbon — dark green silk, worn from use.
"It's from one of my old books," he said simply, pressing it into her hand. "You read too, don't you?"
Eleanor nodded, blinking fast to keep her tears from spilling.
"Then use this as a marker," he continued. His voice was calm, but softer than she had ever heard it. "And when you see it, think of Greystone." His lips curved, just slightly. "Think of me."
Her heart tightened, and before she could stop herself, a tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't want to leave," she whispered.
Theodore hesitated, as though battling words he wasn't used to saying. Finally, he leaned close, his voice so low it was only for her.
"I'll miss you, Eleanor."
She swallowed hard, clutching both the pebble and the ribbon against her chest.
The footman cleared his throat by the carriage, reminding them all that the hour had come. Eleanor's mother guided her gently forward, but she twisted around one last time. William stood tall, his hand raised in a grand wave, shouting promises of letters and future adventures.
Theodore didn't wave. He only stood still, watching, his eyes holding hers until the carriage door closed.
As the wheels began to turn, Eleanor pressed her gifts to her heart. William's pebble felt warm with friendship, but it was the green ribbon that made her chest ache, a quiet reminder of the boy who had spoken only a few words — yet words that would linger long after the castle was gone from sight.
She didn't understand why it hurt so much. Only that leaving Greystone meant leaving a part of herself behind..