When Seeker woke, the sunlight felt more golden. The birds’ song was sweeter. singing of the birds was sweeter. But most of all the nearby wheat fields carried a fragrance steeped in memory—Beautiful’s memory.
She kept her promise. They spent hours together in his dream—wandering meadows, feeding each other apples in the orchard. But even so, he couldn’t wait to see her again.
When he entered the common room, she was already there. She had set a plate next to hers—and was waiting.
“Good morning, baby,” She glanced at the day-old bread. “It’s not apples, but it’ll have to do.
He sat beside her and reached for her hand, but she pulled it away with a disapproving glare.
“Not here, I said!”
They ate together talking and laughing. As he finished his last bite of bread, she gave a small tilt of her head toward the door.
“What is it you do in that tower, Seeker?”
“How do you even know about that?” He blinked.
“Everyone knows, little baby,” she said with a smirk. “You go there every single day.”
She’d seen him before. Of course. It hit him. He’d seen her too, at Stern’s gatherings. He just hadn’t noticed. She always slipped in late and left early. He wondered at himself. How had he seen her all those months and never noticed?
“Come and see, baby,” he teased.
“Don’t call me baby!”
