Loosening. Arin’s voice lifted beyond the garden wall. It poured around her fear, and into it. The wordless warmth of music took a familiar shape.
A lullaby. Enai had sung it to Kestrel long ago, and Arin sang it to her now.
Maybe he had seen her in his garden, or heard her restless walk. Kestrel didn’t know how he knew that she needed his comfort as much as she needed the stone wall between them. Yet when the song stopped and the night resonated with a silence that was itself a kind of music, Kestrel was no longer afraid.
She believed his silence on the other side of the wall, which said that he would stay there as long as she needed.
When Kestrel went inside, she carried his song with her.
It was a candle that lit her way and kept watch while she slept.