Coming down from the observatory was like breaking the surface of a cold lake into sunlight.
The engineered silence of the old wing thinned with every step. The estate's warm hum came back under my feet. Cold stone turned into carpet, starlight into the low gold of the residential sconces. The quiet up there hadn't been an absence of noise. It was a ward, built to keep the world off a woman who saw too much of it.
Isolde had lifted one weight off me and set another in its place. The fate I'd been fighting since I woke up in this body was gone. In its place was the very large, very empty freedom of a man who had to write his own. And still I felt lighter. Clearer. The road was no safer. It was just finally mine.
Rachel was in the little sitting area outside my rooms, curled on a sofa with a book she was obviously not reading. She was on her feet before I'd cleared the corner.
