ELLIE’S POV
The next morning, I woke before the bell.
I didn’t wait for Maela.
I didn’t even wait for the light.
I wrapped my scarf, fastened my boots, and took my staff from the wall like it was a limb I’d always carried.
The courtyard was quiet—cold mist rising from the stone, frost threading the edges of flower beds.
I barely made it halfway across the courtyard when Maela appeared, quiet as shadow.
She said nothing at first, just fell into step beside me, like she’d been waiting.
Her sharp gaze didn’t soften, but there was something else in it now. Not suspicion. Not wariness, but understanding.
She led me toward the outer path that curved behind the herb sheds. The scents of pine, wild rosemary, and ash bark clung to the wind.
“Something changed in you,” she said quietly.
