Rosamund
We held hands all the way back to the room.
Through the corridors thick with whispering nobles, up the staircase where servants flattened themselves against the walls, past the guards who bowed as we passed. Nevan's fingers stayed laced through mine, warm and firm, and I held on without speaking.
He opened the door, guided me inside, and closed it behind us.
We stood in the quiet of the room, and slowly, our fingers separated.
"You can rest as long as you need," he said, pulling his riding gloves from his coat pocket and setting them on the desk. "We will leave for Wellspring tomorrow morning."
I nodded. My throat was tight, and my eyes were stinging again with unshed tears. I didn't understand why I was getting emotional at the slightest thing.
Nevan crossed to me and stood behind me, his fingers finding the lacing at the back of my gown the same way he'd done days ago in this same room.
