“Areyou planning on telling me where we’re headed, or am I supposed to guess?”
“Guess?” Elora’s rich laughter bathed the dreary hallway in much needed warmth. “That would take ages in a place like this.”
“That’s what I hoped you’d say. So tell me! Where are you taking me?” Kestrel was practically bouncing on her heels.
“What are you, part hummingbird?” Elora eyed her up and down as if she was disturbed by Kestrel’s display of enthusiasm, but Kestrel could tell by the glow of her eyes that she kind of liked it.
“Not a hummingbird,” Kestrel said, matter-of-fact. She stopped hopping around long enough to adjust her evergreen jerkin. “I am aprincess, I’ll have you know.”
“The strangest princess I’ve ever met,” muttered Elora.
“You like it,” Kestrel said, bumping her hip into Elora’s before she could think better of it. To remember that this was a girl who stiffened at touch, who shirked away and caused fights any time theygot too close.
But to Kestrel’s astonishment, the princess bumped her right back. “Maybe I do.”
Kestrel’s pulse skipped. Her wide eyes pierced the side of Elora’s face, but she refused to look at her. As if it hadn’t even happened, though the slight tinge of her cheeks confirmed otherwise.
As much as she wanted to beg Elora to expand upon what exactly she meant bymaybe I do, she also didn’t want to push her luck. Instead, Kestrel decided she would change the conversation. But to what? Every topic that came to mind—the Hollows, the wedding, the last couple decades of Elora’s life—none of them were exactly happy topics of discussion. The more time Kestrel spent with Elora though, the more she wanted to get to know her.
“Do you like to read?” she finally asked, hoping it wasn’t a stupid or offensive question.
“Sometimes I suppose. If I’m being honest, it’s been a long while since I’ve read a book though. They didn’t exactly provide reading material while I was in the dungeons.”
Dragon’s fire! Kestrel had done it anyway. She’d soured the conversation, even when she’d been trying her best to avoid dangerous topics of conversation. She hoped maybe she could salvage it though.
“Whatdidyou like to do then? Before…everything?”
Elora faltered a step, but recovered so quickly Kestrel almost could’ve missed it. She might’ve, if she hadn’t been watching her so intently, listening so fiercely.
A long stretch of silence followed.
“I suppose I enjoyed star-gazing. Dancing. But most of all, my favorite thing to do was tend to the flowers around Eynallore.”
Now they were getting somewhere.
“Ah, hence your fondness for the gardens.”
“Mhmm.”
“Describe it to me. Eynallore, I mean. What’s it like there?”
A dreamy haze muted Elora’s eyes. “You’ve never seen anything like it, especially if all you have to compare it to is Vallonde—that’s not to say that Vallonde isn’t breathtaking in its own right. But Eynallore is like—it’s like a dream. In the summer, our meadows fill with amethyst beetles, and whenever the dark hours shadow the lands, the moonlight reflects off their crystalline shells, illuminating everything in a deep, purple glow.
“Since Eynallore is in the northern region, winters hit us harder than they probably hit you in the south—depending on how long you stay up here, you might catch a glimpse. But even winters in Irongate don’t compare to winters in Eynallore. Our lands become a snowy wonderland. Ice builds on the tall spires, and our lakes frost over. Our lives slow down, and almost every Ashen can be found outside, ice skating or playing in the snow.”
“Snow?”
Elora gawked at her for a moment. But then she blinked the shock away. “Right, of course you wouldn’t know. I don’t imagine Vallonde gets any. Snow is like sand, I guess. But softer. Colder. More whimsical.”
Kestrel tried imagining it, but she was afraid her experiences were too limited to bring it fully to life. Hopefully, Elora was right, and she’d get to experience it here. With her.
“It sounds wonderful.”
“It is,” Elora said sadly. “But my favorite time of year in Eynallore is spring. That’s when all the flowers bloom. It’s when Eynallore is truly at its most beautiful. I wish everyone could see it. Maybe then they’d feel differently about us.” Kestrel was about to offer her what little words of comfort she had, when Elora interjected, “Anyway, we’re almost there. Maybe now you know where we’re headed?”
Kestrel had been so thoroughly consumed by Elora’s story, that she hadn’t realized they were approaching the front doors to the castle. They were leaving. Perhaps Elora was taking her back out to the gardens—it seemed like a place she admired, and Kestrel did as well, considering the heart-skipping memory she had of the two of them by the fountain. It was the first time they had really spoken, truly and deeply, anyway. The first time Kestrel had held her. Felt the curve of her lower back and hips as she kept her from falling.
But as they exited the castle, Elora guided them around the gardens, not into them.
