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She thought about how, once, she was painting a flock of geese on the front lawn of her home, intent on one day becoming free like them. It turned out that freedom showed itself in many different ways, and the one in which she found herself in was exactly what she had been seeking out all along. Cordelia reached for her sister’s hand, and gave it a tight squeeze, her next words more genuine than they had ever been before.

“I am beyond well, Irene,” she said.

Her sister’s brow shot up. “Is that so?” She touched her aching leg. “Even with a fracture?”

“Even with a fracture.”

“You might not paint for a few more days.”

“Then so be it,” Cordelia replied. She reached out towards Michael, eagerly taking his hand within her own and pressing a short kiss to his palm. “I have all that I need, right here.”

Irene glanced between them, her smile growing more and more. “How wonderful,” she murmured. With a deep sigh, she picked herself off the bed, and crossed the room, her arm tucked alongside Duncan’s. “Come along, brother,” she said.

He frowned. “But -”

“Didn’t you hear our little sister?” Irene smiled, her eyes glossy with emotion. “I believe she is quite well.”

The Celeston siblings quickly said their goodbyes before leaving Cordelia’s chambers, shutting the door gently behind them. There was a sound in the distance, one that was familiar but muffled by the shut windows.

“Michael,” Cordelia said. “Can you help me to the window?”

He frowned. “What for?”

“Can you hear them?”

“Hear what?”

Cordelia laughed. “Just help me up!”

Michael rounded the bed, tucking an arm around her waist before hoisting her out from beneath the sheets. Carefully, he allowed her to lean her weight against him, her fractured leg hovering in the air. They stumbled towards the window, and Michael pulled up a chair before resting her back on it. He pushed the window open as much as he could, keeping one steady and cautious hand on the back of her chair.

Cordelia leaned forward, breathing in the summer breeze. It smelt like rain, still, and freshly ground up earth. Below, she could see the orangery, the sun hitting the glass ceiling brightly. The gardens were being tended to, the flowers looking better than they ever had since the storm. A few members of staff walked outside, using shears to work on the wide hedge maze. But it wasn’t any of that that caught her attention. No, there was a sound in the distance, quickly coming over the roof of Solshire and flying off to a place she could not see or even imagine.

A flock of geese went by overhead, their honks filling the morning air. Cordelia’s face lit up with a beaming smile, unable to look away from their beauty. Beside her, Michael watched the same flock, the corner of his lip tugging upwards.

Cordelia, suddenly, felt incredibly content with herself, unable to spot the smile from stretching so far that it ached.

Everything was just as it was supposed to be.

EPILOGUE

Before the summer season managed to melt into a chilly autumn, Cordelia managed to get Michael to take a swim in the lake alongside her. Though the months of convincing were troubled and hard, the trust they built between each other was too hard for either one of them to ignore. And Cordelia could hardly stand how his body tensed up at the sight of the lake, how he clenched his hands into fists and forced himself to look the other way. Despite everything terrible that happened within the dark waters, Cordelia wished for him to understand that it was not the fault of nature, but rather the mind of man.

It was the early afternoon one day, and they lounged within the orangery. Cordelia finished another painting, one that was of the front of Solshire, and was struggling to find a place to hang it up. While Michael spent days growing through the paintings already hanging within the estate, Cordelia chose her own pieces that were fit for her orangery, without any embarrassment daring to come up her throat. She placed the canvas on a hook beside a few plants, a ray of light sliding through the windows and landing on that particular spot. She stepped away, hands on her hips, as she looked over it.

“I believe,” a familiar voice cooed from behind her, “It isn’t straight.”

Cordelia frowned and held up her thumb. The painting’s edge lined up with her hand. “Well, it looks mighty straight to me!”

Arms came around her waist suddenly. “No, no,” Michael murmured from behind her, twisting her around to step closer to the painting. “Don’t you see?” He tapped the corner, and the canvas swayed till it landed on being off centered. “Not straight at all.”

“You trouble maker,” Cordelia muttered as she wrangled herself out of his grasp. She stepped forward and fixed the painting. “What do you think?”

Michael stepped closer and looked over it, the corner of his lip turning up in a smile. “Incredible likeness,” he said. His eyes trailed to one side, where the beginning of the lake could be seen in the painting. Michael straightened and cleared his throat. “There was something I wished to say, Cordelia.”

“What is it?”

He hesitated and glanced around the orangery, his hand grazing over a particularly large leaf. Cordelia couldn’t help but watch and admire him. A few years ago, when they first were married, she wouldn’t have ever imagined seeing him in such a comfortable way alongside her. Even months ago, when he came back to Solshire to put an end to the rumors plaguing their names. But, after he could finally open up to her, Cordelia began to slowly witness the true Michael Rayson, a brilliantly stoic man who had a heart of gold buried beneath his beastly atmosphere.