Page 27 of A Kingdom's Heart
Instead, I chose a white, off–the–shoulder–dress. It was soft and light, the hem brushing just above my knees. I tied a white ribbon in my hair and let it fall straight down my back, pale against the fabric.
Raven had said we would be outside for most of the morning. That was reason enough.
I looked in the mirror one last time. The faint red mark on my cheek was nearly gone, but I could still feel it when I turned my head. I drew a slow breath and reached for the door.
I stepped into the corridor, the air cool and still. The torches along the walls burned low, and the faint echo of footsteps followed me as I made my way toward the healer’s wing.
Raven was already there, sorting jars and bundles of herbs into neat rows. The room smelled of mint and sage, sharp and clean. The moment she saw me, she grabbed a basket from the table and placed it in my hands.
“Perfect timing,” she said. “We’re going out today. The Northern farm needs a few supplies, so we’ll be collecting herbs on the way.”
I blinked, surprised. “Outside the castle?”
She nodded, tying her dark hair back. “Yes. We’ll be quick.”
“Won’t my father be angry?” I asked, lowering my voice. “You know how he feels about me leaving.”
Raven smiled faintly, the kind of smile that said she had already
thought it through. “I spoke to him this morning. He said it’s fine, as long as it’s for work.”
I sighed. “Of course he did.”
She arched a brow. “You sound disappointed.”
“The Northern farm is a long walk,” I said, adjusting the basket
in my hands.
“True,” she replied. “But at least you get to walk outside the castle walls today.”
I looked toward the window. The morning light spilled through the stone frame, soft and cold. It had been a day since I’d last left the castle, but it already felt too long.
A small smile found its way to my lips. “True, I suppose.”
“Then come on,” Raven said, already moving toward the door. “Before he changes his mind.”
We stepped out into the morning light. The courtyard was alive with sound. Servants hurried between the stables and the kitchens, guards called out orders, and the steady clang of metal rang through the air. The scent of baked bread drifted faintly on the breeze, warm and sweet.
Raven walked ahead, her basket swinging lightly at her side. I followed close behind, the sunlight catching on the pale stone walls around us. When we reached the gates, the guards bowed and stepped aside without question.
The moment we passed through, something inside me loosened.
The air beyond the walls felt different. Softer. It carried the scent of pine and wet grass, the promise of distance and quiet. The noise of the courtyard faded behind us until there was only the rustle of trees and the faint hum of the forest.
Birds called from the branches. The ground was still damp from the night’s rain, and my shoes sank slightly into the earth with each step. For the first time in weeks, I could breathe without feeling watched.
We walked for a long while in silence. The trees grew thicker as we went, their branches wearing together above us. Sunlight filtered through in small, scattered patches, lighting the moss that clung to the stones like velvet.
After a while, a different, familiar sound reached me.
Water.
I slowed, listening. The murmur grew clearer the farther we went, until through the brush I caught a glimpse of silver light
ahead.
The river.
