Around mid-morning, there was a soft knock at the door. I had been sitting by the window with the third book from the desk—one about symbols and elemental balance—but I hadn't turned a page in several minutes. I was just tracing a spiral rune drawn in silver ink with my finger, letting the stillness of the room settle into my skin like light.
The knock came again. Still soft. Still polite. I said, "Come in." My voice didn't echo. It didn't catch. It felt less strange now—using it in this room. Like it belonged here more than it ever had in the orphanage. The door opened gently, and the three De Orath siblings stepped inside.
They greeted me the same way they always did. Not stiffly. Not overly bright. Just… present. Lillian gave a slight bow and asked how I slept. Tilly smiled when she saw the book on my lap but didn't interrupt. Gabel, carrying a small stack of folded clothes, waited until I looked up before speaking.
"If you'd like to change," he said, "we've prepared a set that's more suited for the day." He didn't say I looked messy. He didn't say I had to. But I nodded anyway.
They helped me dress, not like I was fragile, but like I was someone who mattered. Like every tie and button was worth their attention. The new outfit was soft cotton again—this time in a pale sand color, with subtle stitching around the collar and sleeves. The trousers were slightly warmer, cuffed at the ankle, with soft lining that made the air against my legs feel gentle.
Lillian untied my braid. She didn't ask. But I didn't stop her either. She ran a comb through the loosened strands carefully, then gathered only the front sections—small, moonlight pieces that tended to fall over my eyes—and pulled them back, tying them with a narrow, ivory ribbon.
The rest of my hair was left down. It brushed lightly against my back, like it remembered being free. I didn't flinch. I didn't ask her to tie it tighter or braid it again. It felt… nice.
After I was dressed and ready, they led me to the dining room. The walk there was quieter than usual. I think they could tell I wasn't sleepy, but I wasn't quite awake in the way that required talking. So they let the silence stay. The only sounds were the soft steps of our shoes and the distant hum of the palace beyond.
Caelum was already seated at the table when we arrived. He stood briefly when I entered, not out of formality, but habit. It was something he did every time—like acknowledging I was there wasn't optional.
I sat in the same chair as yesterday. Tilly adjusted the napkin on my lap, and Lillian brought me water with a slice of lemon floating in it. Gabel stood nearby with a linen cloth and waited for the food to be brought in.
Today's breakfast was different. Not bread and broth or porridge like at the orphanage. Waffles. The plate was placed in front of me gently—two crisp, golden squares stacked on top of each other, drizzled in something dark and shiny that smelled sweet and sharp.
"Your first waffles, I assume?" Caelum asked with a small smile.
I looked at him, then back at the plate. I nodded. "I've never seen these," I admitted.
"That's chocolate," he said, pointing to the dark drizzle. "It's very rare. Most noble households don't keep it stocked unless they import it specifically."
He didn't say it like he was bragging. Just explaining. I stared at the dark syrup again. The smell was strange. Not bad, just unfamiliar. Like roasted fruit mixed with something deeper. It reminded me of burnt sugar. Of something trying too hard to be delicious.
I took a small bite. The waffle itself was soft on the inside, crisp on the edges. But the chocolate… It didn't taste like I expected. It was sweet. Too sweet. And then bitter underneath. And then thick. It clung to my tongue, coating my mouth in a way that made it hard to taste the waffle at all.
I chewed slowly. Then set my fork down. Caelum watched me for a moment, then said, "You don't have to finish it if it's not to your taste."
I looked at him again. "You're not disappointed?"
His brow rose slightly. "Why would I be disappointed?"
"Because I didn't like it. And it's… rare."
He shook his head. "What's rare isn't always what's best. And I didn't offer it to impress you. I offered it so you'd know what it tasted like. Now you do."
I thought about that. Then picked up the napkin and wiped my mouth. No one tried to feed me this time. No one scolded me for wasting food. No one even looked surprised. It was just another first. And that was enough.
After breakfast, I stayed seated for a few moments. I watched the light from the windows stretch across the floor, inching closer to my shoes. The air smelled faintly of lemon and butter, but nothing clung too thickly. Then I asked: "Am I allowed to go outside?"
Caelum tilted his head slightly, like he was thinking how to word something important. "You don't need permission to do anything," he said. "Not in this palace. But I'd like you to tell someone where you're going, just so we know you're safe. Can you do that?"
I nodded.
"Then yes," he said. "You're free to go anywhere the gates allow."
I told Gabel I wanted to visit the rose maze. He bowed his head and offered to accompany me. I said I wanted to go alone. He paused. Then nodded. And said only, "I'll be nearby if you need anything."
I walked out into the garden slowly. The air was crisp but not cold. The sun was higher now, lighting the tops of the hedges and warming the stone paths beneath my shoes. Birds flitted between the branches. One of the fountains in the distance was already running, the water a soft, constant murmur.
I passed through the main path first. Then turned. The maze wasn't made to trap people. There were no dead ends. Just winding paths. Gentle curves. The hedges were trimmed clean, and the roses grew in every color—deep red, pale yellow, white like snow, blue like stormlight. Some were still buds, others fully open. The scent followed me as I walked. Not strong. Just present.
I passed a small pond with koi swimming lazily beneath the surface. One of them was white with red spots. Another gold. They moved slowly, turning in circles, as if they didn't need to go anywhere fast. The pond was quiet. Still. But not lifeless. Like everything else here.
I kept walking. Eventually, I reached the gazebo in the center of the maze. It looked different up close. From my balcony, it had just been a shape. A pale spot surrounded by green. But now… It was taller than I expected.
Round, with six open archways framed by soft climbing vines. The roof was slanted, made of carved wood painted white. Inside were two benches and a round table. Someone had placed a book there recently—its cover was closed, but a pressed flower sat between the pages.
I stepped inside. The air changed. Not colder. Not warmer. Just quieter. Like the gazebo carried its own hush. I sat on one of the benches and looked out at the maze. The paths I'd walked. The curves I hadn't followed yet. The way the roses moved gently in the wind.
I didn't say anything aloud. I just sat there. The book stayed closed beside me. I didn't feel the need to open it. I had enough stories already today.
This was my first time walking through a noble's garden. My first time not being told where to go. My first time reaching the end of a path and being allowed to stay. My first time tasting chocolate, even if I didn't like it. My first time sleeping outside on warm stone, and waking up with no one shaking my shoulder. My first time asking if I was allowed to do something… And being told— "You don't need permission."