It was as breathtaking as it was confusing, her heart pounding to witness such a coordinated effort of movement and...
Freedom.
Free to move, free to love the partner they had chosen, free to simply be.
And the envy was a slippery thing as it slithered through her, and she was forced to shut her yes, to remember herself, lest it fester into anger.
She felt another approach and did her best to hold her composure. A placid smile, a kind word, and they would move on, satisfied that they had spoken to the mysterious and illusive Lightkeep who would henceforth disappear, never to be seen again.
“Penryn,” a voice murmured, far closer than she had expected, and her eyes flew open, darting about the space in front of her, only to find it quite empty. Those still seated at the tables had shifted their chairs, the better to see the dancing, and at least for a time, they had something more fascinating to hold their attention than a solitary Lightkeep.
When a hand reached out and settled on her shoulder it took everything in her not to gasp or, even worse, screech out her surprise at the action.
She whirled around, ready to chastise, ready to... she did not know what.
Not when crouched behind her was precisely who could not be here at all.
Just as he had appeared in the great hall, hunched and heavily cloaked, but his eyes, even in the dim light of the shadow of the Keep, there was no mistaking that it was really him.
She wanted to hit him.
Wanted to kiss him.
Wanted to throw herself into his arms and thank him over and over that he was here, that he was real, that she had not already begun her descent into madness, the solitude having tugged at the tethers of her mind until all had unravelled.
But she was too jumbled up, had worked too hard to present her cooler nature, put duty before herself, so out tumbled instead the admonishment that was expected of her. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice partially harsh, but a great deal more breathless. “If you are seen,” she blanched, “All of this is for nothing.” An exaggeration as the treaty had already been signed, but he had renounced his own vow by following her, and that was a heavy weight to the both of them.
“I have not been seen,” he answered with a hint of annoyance in his expression. She did not want that. She wanted the tender looks he gave her sometimes, more frequent toward the end of their Journey and he was not so determined to keep up his air of formality between them.
Her fingers found him of their own accord, clutching at the cloak that shielded him from everything, grateful for its presence yet resenting it all the same. She wanted to see him properly, wanted to assess for herself that he was unharmed, that...
That he was real.
He softened somewhat when he noticed her desperation, the hand that had been at her shoulder coming to grip one of her hands in his. His thumb traced over her knuckles, and she felt the welcome shiver, the one that so often accompanied even the simplest of his touches. Tears were threatening to come, hard and unending should she allow them to make any appearance at all, and it took every bit of her will to hold on to her composure lest she draw too much attention to them both.
“We must talk, you and I,” Grimult told her, his fingers grasping hers a little more firmly. “In private.”
Penryn bit her lip, nodding her head, turning her head to glance over at the sages. They were engaged either in conversation with each other or with looking at the dancers, but it would not be that way for long. “The North Tower is mine until tomorrow, and then I will be moved to my permanent location.” She grimaced, feeling a sudden panic. “I do not know exactly where it is. What if you cannot find me?” But he had found her here, when she had left him on the other side of the Wall, and even now, she could not quite believe it.
He smiled at her, a sad offering compared to some of the bright and easy ones she had seen during their travels. “I will always find you, Penryn,” he murmured, and from the way his eyes darted downward, she was fairly certain he wished to kiss her, to seal such a foolhardy vow with something tangible and solely theirs, and she felt the same longing fill her.
But with a final grip of her fingers, he pulled away, and it took everything in her not to cling, not to plead with him to stay.
It was more than she had ever expected to have with him, yet that seemed to unearth all the greedy selfishness she had fought to hide away behind duty and sacrifice.
The dancers ceased as the music came to a halt, and she would have thought that something had gone wrong if people were not smiling and clapping their hands together, seemingly pleased with the conclusion. Some partners returned to their tables, winded and out of breath, a few comments drifting to her that dancing was for the young, and they must not be that anymore. Others remained in the square, unwilling to be separated, content to look eagerly at the musicians and await another song.
Penryn had thought it difficult to remain seated before, to watch and listen and pretend that the food before her was of any interest at all, but now it was
