The interior garden had become theirs through repetition. They had simply kept returning until the habit made it a meeting spot.
A gap in the roof let sunlight spill across the stone floor, and plants climbed two of the walls in uneven patterns that suggested someone had cared for them once, then stopped abruptly. Here, the cold stone scent was replaced by a greener one.
Hild barely noticed it anymore. What mattered when she stepped through the archway was who had arrived and what they were doing.
Mab sat on the nearest bench with a small stone resting in her palm. The stone gave off warmth that had nothing to do with the afternoon heat. She wasn't paying attention to it, her eyes were on the far wall instead while the warmth remained in the stone through pure habit.
Beadu occupied the opposite bench with bread and a cloth-wrapped bundle beside her, eating with alarming intensity.
