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“So, would you?” she asked again.

I didn’t know how to answer that, so I went with the truth. “I think I would be too curious to find out exactly how you planned to escape to stop you.”

She laughed faintly. “You know, I actually believe that.”

Shoving the conversation aside, I focused on what was important in this moment as I stared at the vibrant colors of the garden. “Will she report you to the Duke?”

“Why would you ask?”

“Will she?” I insisted.

“Probably not,” she answered. I didn’t believe her. “She’s too busy with the Rite. Everyone is.” She exhaled long and slow. “I’ve never been to a Rite.”

“And you’ve never snuck into one?”

She lowered her chin. “I’m offended that you’d even suggest such a thing.”

I chuckled, the noise sounding strange to my ears. “How bizarre that I could think that you, who has a history of misbehaving, would do such a thing.”

She gave me a small grin.

Not a smile.

I didn’t think she really smiled.

“You haven’t missed much, to be honest. There’s a lot of talking, a bunch of tears, and too much drinking,” I told her, thinking of the Rites I’d seen in my time in Solis. “It’s after the Rite where things can get…interesting. You know how it is.”

“I don’t know,” she said.

One side of my lips kicked up. I had a feeling she knew exactly what happened after the Rite. “But you know how easy it is to be yourself when you wear a mask,” I reminded her. “How anything you want becomes achievable when you can pretend that no one knows who you are.”

“You shouldn’t bring that up.” Her voice was breathy.

I cocked my head. “No one is close enough to overhear.”

“That doesn’t matter. You…we shouldn’t talk about that.”

“Ever?”

I waited for her to say yes, but she didn’t as she turned her attention back to the courtyard.

I knew Penellaphe had no issue speaking her mind to me. If she never wanted me to bring it up, she would’ve made that clear. The thing was…that wasn’t what she wanted.

I didn’t think she wanted a lot of what occurred around her—what happened to her.

My heart was doing that pounding thing again, and that prickle at the nape of my neck decided to join in. “Would you like to go back to your room?”

She shook her head, causing the golden chains to chime softly. “Not particularly.”

“Would you like to go out there instead?” I pointed outside.

“You think it would be safe?”

“Between you and me, I would think so.”

A faint grin appeared again. “I used to love the courtyard. It was the one place where, I don’t know, my mind was quiet, and I could just be. I didn’t think or worry…about anything. I found it so very peaceful.”

“But not anymore?”

“No,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

A kernel of something akin to guilt seeded itself in my gut. I was the cause of her loss of peace. Something I was only just beginning to realize she had very little of. And that didn’t sit well with me.

It never would have.

“It’s strange how no one speaks of Rylan or Malessa,” she continued. “It’s almost as if they never existed.”

“Sometimes remembering those who died means facing your own mortality.”

“Do you think the Ascended are uncomfortable with the idea of death?”

“Even them,” I told her. “They may be godlike, but they can be killed. They can die.”

Penellaphe fell quiet as a handful of Ladies in Wait appeared in the otherwise vacant hall. They looked out at the gardens while speaking about the Rite. I kept glancing at her, wishing she would ask to go out into the courtyard.

“Are you excited about attending the Rite?” I asked when she didn’t say anything.

“I am curious,” she shared. The Rite was only two days away.

Two days. Instead of thinking of what that really meant, I found myself thinking about her. All wore red to the Rites, and I imagined it would be the same for the Maiden. “I’m curious to see you. You’ll be unveiled,” I assumed since all wore masks to the Rite.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “But I will be masked.”

“I prefer that version of you.”

“The masked version of me?”

“Honest?” I leaned my head down, keeping my voice low. “I prefer the version of you that wears no mask or veil.”

A faint tremor coursed through her as her lips parted on a soft exhale—lips I clearly recalled were incredibly soft. Heat pumped through my veins. I inched back before I caved to the urge and did something that would be entirely unwise.

She cleared her throat, but when she spoke, there was still a tantalizing breathiness to her words. “I remember you said your father was a farmer. Do you have any siblings? Any Lords in Wait in the family? A sister? Or…?” She took a shallow breath. “There’s only Ian for me—I mean, I only have one brother. I’m excited to see him again. I miss him.”