Isla's POV
We sat there on our horses, looking at the lake, not looking at each other.
It was the absence of something.
For months, the tension had been there, constant as gravity.
And now, sitting on a horse named Klára at the edge of a lake in Burgenland, with the taste of cold air in my mouth and the phantom warmth of Conrad's fingertips still fading from my skin—
It was gone.
Not permanently. I wasn't stupid enough to think a horseback ride could cure whatever was wrong with me.
I was just relaxed.
The restaurant was called Zur Dankbarkeit, which Conrad translated as "The Gratitude," and it occupied the ground floor of a converted farmhouse on the outskirts of Rust, a town so small that the main street doubled as the only street.
"This is the best restaurant?" I looked at the
