She felt her way through blackness, down the stairs. Utter stillness met her every step, even as she passed the second level. In a chamber there Marcus slept, at peace no doubt. There was no reason for him to toss with bad dreams. The path of his duty lay straight and cleanly marked. She was the one getting lost in a maze of conflicting loyalties.

She stepped outside and breathed in the crisp air. She lifted her hair so it could dry the dampness that her restless night had left on her nape.

The yard seemed much larger now with the absence of people and activity. The walls loomed high and ominous in comparison to its stretching void. The hollow silence of the castle intensified, unsettling her. She aimed for the garden, seeking a place less remindful of a tomb.

The familiar shapes of low boxwood and bushes, of fruit trees and ivy beds, lightened her spirits. A garden did not need people in order to be alive and natural. The flowers might have died, and the last leaves might be falling, but the space was still redolent with the odors of life. It contained a thousand reassurances that no matter what one person’s strife, the seasons continued their cycle.

She strolled along a side path littered with fallen apples. She did not think about her father or Carwyn Hir or even Marcus. She let the quiet beauty of the night garden create a spot of solace for a while.

Halfway along the path, the mood suddenly changed. A streak of lightning might have flashed in the sky, so abruptly was she pulled out of her reverie. With one step she passed from peace to turmoil.

She recognized the reason, and halted. She was not alone in this garden. Someone else was here, and she knew who it was.

She peered into the deep shadows beneath the trees. She found him the last place that she looked, on a bench against the garden wall, not twenty paces from where she stood.

“It is odd for you to be here, Marcus. After a day in the saddle, you should be sleeping like the dead.”

He rose. “I often visit here at night, Nesta.”

“Do not come near me.”

He ignored her command. The way he walked had her on the alert. Her inner voice warned that she should leave immediately.

She pictured herself fleeing like a mouse, confirming her weakness. She stood her ground, but her blood quickened with something too much like fear. “I am not surprised that you seek this place out at night. It is so peaceful, and perfect for contemplation. Better than a church.”

“I do not come here for prayer or contemplation, Nesta. I have been waiting for you. I have come almost every night since we first arrived here.”

“You assumed that I had a habit of visiting gardens at night?”