By the time I left, the moon was doing her dramatic thing again—floating above the towers, looking all silver and holy, like she wasn't complicit in every sleepless night I've ever had. She painted little silver veins across the tiled floor like a divine artist who never asked for consent.
And I—I held that warmth close. Like a cup of tea I didn't want to finish.
Walked back to my room. Walked like someone with secrets. Walked like someone trying not to spiral.
But later, obviously, the spiral came anyway. It always does.
Long after the halls had gone still and the shadows got clingy, that warmth curdled.
Restlessness. That's the polite word for it.
I lay there like a tragic painting. One arm flung over my face, ceiling too ornate to scream at, just… thinking. About everything. And nothing. And all the pressure in between.
Darkwood. Spirits. The Brand.
And my father's ridiculous deer.
Would I embarrass myself like he did?
Would I even be seen by a spirit?
Or would I come back blank. Unmarked. Unremarkable. Another noble girl with nothing to show for it except a closet full of ceremonial trauma and unrealistic expectations.
And then—knock knock.
Selena. Of course. Holding folded clothes like some holy laundry nun.
"Your new formal wear just arrived," she said like she didn't know I was in the middle of a crisis.
She headed to the wardrobe. So efficient. So tragically unaware of the emotional wreckage inside me.
"You'll need it for the departure ceremony," she added. Because nothing screams peace of mind like ceremonial goodbye outfits.
"Thank you," I murmured, sitting up like a haunted doll.
She was halfway into color-coding things when I said, "Selena… can we talk?"
Her back went rigid. That perfect maid alert mode kicked in. "Of course."
I stood. Felt dramatic. "I want to go outside."
And wow. The pause. The weight. The oxygen left the room and the narrative.
"…Outside?" she blinked.
"Yes," I said, already emotionally prepping for her internal collapse. "I mean outside the mansion. Into the city."
There it was. That face. Shock, disapproval, judgment, concern. The full matronly cocktail.
"Lady Seris, you know I can't allow that. It's unsafe. And it's against the rules. You're—"
"I know, I know," I said, raising my hands like I was under arrest. "But I'm leaving in a week. After that? Everything changes. I'll have to face spirits, danger, probably death—"
"Don't say that," she snapped, maternal panic in her voice.
"—so," I plowed on, "can't I just see the world once? The real one? Not the curated trauma garden or the sanitized tower view. I want streets. I want people. I want bad smells and loud voices."
She crossed her arms like a fortress. "I'm your maid, not your kidnapper. If anything happens to you—"
"Nothing will. Cloaks. Guards-avoidance. We blend. I'll pretend to be your cousin."
She gave me a look. The kind that stripped souls and rolled eyes at the same time. "You, blend in?"
"Fine," I smirked. "Your very eccentric, slightly spoiled cousin."
She sighed, turned her back. Drama queen behavior. "This is madness…"
"But you're curious, aren't you?" I pressed, voice all honey and rebellion. "You've been with me forever, Selena. You've never even stepped beyond the market walls. Don't you want to see more?"
Silence. That dangerous kind.
"You always say the dresses are too tight. The rules are too strict. Well. Let's break them. Just once."
Another long pause.
I went for the kill. "Selena," I said, voice soft. Honest. "I trust you more than anyone. I wouldn't ask this if I didn't."
Boom. There it was. That tiny fracture. That little piece of her that broke under loyalty and longing.
She turned. Exasperated. Resigned. Human.
"If we get caught…"
"We won't."
"If my position is put at risk—"
"I'll take all the blame," I said, hand on heart. "I'll say I threatened you with noble privilege. Said I'd have you dismissed if you didn't obey."
Her eyes bugged. "You'd never."
"I would. For you."
Gods. Her face actually softened. I almost cried.
She groaned. Rubbed her temples like I was both migraine and miracle. "Gods above, I'm going to regret this."
I beamed. Glowed like petty sunshine. "That's the spirit."
"You realize you're a bad influence."
"Don't worry," I said, grabbing her hands like we were co-conspirators in a romantic heist. "We'll be ghosts. In and out before anyone even knows I'm gone."
She stared like she was reevaluating every career decision she's ever made. "Do not make that your new motto."