Leah said nothing at first.

The silence between them wasn’t cold, nor was it hostile, it was the silence of something tightly wound, carefully measured. She stood with her hands lightly clasped in front of her, eyes fixed not on the horse, nor on the offer extended to her, but on the woman herself. That smile..it wasn’t empty. Not forced, either. But Leah saw the ghost that passed behind it, the shadow that moved through Estelle’s expression before the warmth could reach her mouth. She knew what grief looked like when it wore its best clothes.

Her gaze dropped, slowly, to the hand Estelle had offered.

Scarred. Callused. A hand that had not known softness in some time, and likely did not seek it. Not the hand of a courtier, nor a priest, nor a gentlewoman cloaked in ritual. No, this was the hand of a fighter. Someone used to holding weight, drawing lines, reaching for answers that didn’t always come clean.

And now it was reaching for her. “I think,” Leah said slowly, carefully, her voice lilting with quiet disbelief, “you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Even as she said it, her breath caught. Her tone held no mockery, no sharpness, only the hesitance of someone long unaccustomed to being [i]wanted[/i]. Her eyes lifted again, studied the woman. There was something unshakable in the way she stood, something old and bruised and still burning. She didn’t look like a liar.

But people rarely [i]looked[/i] like liars. Especially the good ones.

Leah turned her head slightly, gaze flicking toward the cottage behind her. Ivy ran like veins up its stone face. The shutters remained drawn. Nothing moved within, but she still felt it—that oppressive weight, the one she’d never been able to name. Her guardian, her jailor, the magic that wrapped itself around her bones like roots from the day she was old enough to speak.

The garden had always been her whole world. Until now.

Her eyes returned to Estelle. “I don’t know who you think I am,” she said again, softer this time, “but if you knew how long I’ve waited for someone to say something like that..” She trailed off, just a breath, just long enough for the ache to show. “You might not ask me to decide so quickly.”

And yet, she didn’t step away.

Didn’t reject the hand.

For the first time in her life, Leah lingered at the edge of her world, not looking in, but [i]out[/i]. Toward something she couldn’t name.