Chapter 60 - An apology

The moon hung fat and silver over the garden that night, turning every leaf into a shimmering coin and making the fountain's water look like liquid starlight. I'd slipped out of the castle after dinner, needing air that didn't smell like marsh rot or sweat-soaked training gear. My muscles still ached from the day in the swamps, but the little ball of light I'd finally conjured pulsed warm in my memory, like a secret heartbeat only I could feel. I sat on the same stone bench where Jaxon and I had tangled weeks ago, robe loose around my shoulders, bare feet curled under me, just breathing in jasmine and night-blooming nicotiana until the knot in my chest loosened.