It was only a few steps until the nave opened up before them, and she could not help but raise her eyes to it. They called it a ceiling but as a child she was sure it was heaven itself, the way it went on forever, the columns reaching up to meet graceful arches. Even now she was sure it was more than just mortar and stone and clever design, because to look at it made her spirit lift up and out of her. She could feel it leave her body and join the upward sweep of light. It made her feel tiny and mortal, and perfect and endless, all at once. It stole her breath away.

This was how she knew men were liars or fools when they called her beautiful – because this was beauty. This.

She only let herself look for the length of a long breath, before eagerly turning to watch the Welshman take it in. But to her amazement he was not looking up. He was still studying the carvings behind her. The enormous black stone font apparently fascinated him. She stepped close and he did not even notice, so she put a hand to his arm to draw his attention. He looked at her, startled, and she glanced at the nave, then back toward him.

His eyes followed her glance, and she watched his breath stop. He looked as she must, every time his falcon flew up into the endless heavens. Every time he murmured lovingly to it when it returned to him. Every time he stroked a fingertip through its feathers, a miracle of nature held easily on his wrist, looking at him from ancient eyes and trusting him above all else.

Now his face turned up so far that the dark hair fell away from the scar by his ear, exposing the patch of shiny skin. His features were a little like the falcon’s – dark eyes under a heavy brow and sharp cheekbones – but his full mouth was a soft contradiction to that. It turned up naturally at the corners, giving him an air of good humor. Now his lips parted as he stared in awe, and the air rushed out of him in a soft sigh.

He stepped forward, still looking up, dazed by the sight, into a pool of color caused by the daylight coming through stained glass.

“It is more beautiful than I could have dreamed,” he said.

“Aye, it is,” she said softly. Unnecessary words. “It is beautiful.”

She blinked, and turned her face away from him and back up to the soaring heavens.

They made their way slowly around the nave, following in the wake of a sea of pilgrims, and said their prayers of thanksgiving. Soon after, they left and found the lane that led around the castle and toward the west gate, where lived the falconer.