Page 41 of Revert
My heart somehow beat even faster when he suddenly paused. The silence deepened, thick and expectant. Had he heard something that had given away my presence?
A soft knock broke the stillness, followed by a servant’s voice. “Your Highness, shall I assist with your preparations?”
Another pause, during which I hardly dared breathe.
“…No,” Castiel said at last, his voice lower than usual—hoarse, almost distracted. “Leave it. I’ll manage tonight.”
The servant’s footsteps retreated and the door clicked shut. A beat of silence followed, but Castiel didn’t move…and neither did I.
Once more, time suspended as we remained trapped in that uncertain stillness. The silence spun out between us, taut andunbearable. I drew a quiet, shaky breath, but in the heavy silence it felt impossible he couldn’t hear it. His shadow stopped just shy of the alcove where I hid, so close that if he reached out, he might brush against me.
Had he noticed something, heard a breath out of place? Or was he simply letting the silence draw out until I revealed myself?
My lungs ached from holding still, but I didn’t dare stir. I counted one breath. Then two. Three. Nearly a minute passed before his footsteps finally shifted away. The tension in my shoulders relaxed, leaving my limbs shaky with the release. I pressed a trembling hand to my chest in an effort to quiet the frantic rhythm beneath my ribs.
He hadn’t discovered me, not yet, but I was far from safe. Though I had barely escaped immediate danger, I was trapped in the crown prince’s private chambers, with no clear escape and a full night stretching before me. It had been difficult enough to get in, but I was beginning to fear leaving would be a challenge I could not meet.
I tracked each footstep as he moved across the room, every sound magnified by the flickering candlelight that followed him. The light pierced the shadows I hid within, threatening to reveal me with every pass. Though I couldn’t see him, I imagined each movement: the turn of his profile, the furrow of his brow, the way his hands moved with calm precision…details I knew all too well. When had I begun noticing him so closely?
Time stopped again when he neared my hiding place. He lingered, so long I felt sure he had sensed my presence through the darkness and shadows concealing me. I held my breath, closing my eyes and praying he wouldn’t notice the woman who had fled from him in the warded room, now concealed beneath his nose in his own chambers.
Eventually, he moved. The wardrobe creaked open and he pulled out his clothes before crossing the room again, offering a moment of relief. But the reprieve was short-lived, eclipsed by a new, inconsequential worry that burned oddly bright through my fear:Castiel was undressing.
It was a ridiculous thing to fixate on, given the circumstances—but the image it conjured was unrelenting. Even terror couldn’t stop the warmth that pooled in my stomach at the soft rustle of fabric, the quiet sound of buttons slipping free. I stared fixedly at the wall, following the waltzing patterns of shadow and candlelight, trying hard not to imagine what was unfolding just feet away.
Perhaps my sanity had slowly been eroding ever since I stepped through the palace gates.
Minutes passed like hours. Already my body ached from my cramped position. It would be torture to endure the entire night like this, a fitting punishment for trespassing into forbidden spaces uninvited, as if Thorndale’s unseen magic had decided to deliver its own cruel justice.
Miraculously, there was just enough space to shift. As quietly as dared, I maneuvered my body, disguising each subtle motion with the sounds of his own preparations. Inch by inch and breath by breath, I twisted my limbs into a more bearable position.
After several long, aching minutes, I managed to lower myself into a crouch, then a seated position—tight and confined, but survivable. I adjusted the journals I hadn’t been able to return, leaned my head against the cool wood of the wardrobe, and waited for the endless stretch of night still to come.
Eventually he slept. I listened to each slow rise and fall of his breath, tracking each shift as he drifted deeper into slumber. I knew the risk of moving too soon—Castiel’s senses were sharp and attuned, even in rest—so I stayed still.
My limbs had long since gone numb, muscles locked in a vise of tension, until even fear began to dull at the edges. Exhaustion crept in slowly—soft and insistent—smoothing the jagged edges of my thoughts, coaxing me under like a tide I was too weary to resist.
The hush of Castiel’s chambers wrapped around me, the rhythm of his breath low and steady, a quiet anchor in the dark. Sleep crept over my exhaustion like fog. Gradually my eyes fluttered closed…and I found myself elsewhere.
A kaleidoscope of images unfolded behind my eyes. I stood on a high terrace I didn’t recognize, draped in a pale gown threaded with gold. Sunlight spilled across weathered stone, dappled with petals carried on a gentle breeze. Warm spring air bathed my skin, fragrant with lilac and something sweeter I couldn’t name.
Though I had no memory of this place, familiarity filled every detail, woven into the stones and the stillness—a sense that extended beyond mere recognition, as if I’d stood here a hundred times before. A quiet ruin, half-forgotten by the world, yet transformed into something sacred—a hidden refuge that belonged to us alone.
There was no trace of the tension or unspoken suspicion that shadowed our waking hours, only a sense of safety and belonging so rare in Thorndale it felt like a myth. But in this place, it had become not only real, but a part of us.
Castiel stood beside me, close enough that I could feel every caress of his fingers. His hand rested at the small of my back—not in formality but in gentle intimacy, the kind shaped of long familiarity. When he smiled, it was nothing like the guarded half-smile I knew from court, but one soft and open, like I was someone he treasured.
He reached to brush a curl behind my ear, a gentle touch I instinctively leaned into. “You always look for the light,” he said, voice low and reverent. “Even in a place like this.”
I reached for him without hesitation, fingers curling into the fabric at his chest as if they belonged there. His hand cradled my cheek, his thumb caressing. He leaned close, and I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t, not when I welcomed him with every fiber of my being, cherished this feeling enfolding us. With him, there was no terror…only love.
His lips lightly brushed my forehead—a kiss that, for all of its beauty, tasted of goodbye.
The scene suddenly shifted, and though the setting remained the same, dusk had fallen. Music filled the air, echoing and strange, as if it came from a great distance.
His face blurred when I turned. I reached for him, but before we could touch, the world around me fractured, pieces slipping out of place. Every time I spun, he was farther away.
“Wait,” I whispered. “Don’t go. Please?—”
