•Inn's Second Floor•
[Ovelia's POV]
The wooden stairs creaked underfoot as Philip and I ascended to the second floor. The hallway stretched before us, lined with identical oak doors, their brass numbers gleaming dully in the flickering candlelight. The raucous celebration below faded to a distant murmur, replaced by the rhythmic squeak of floorboards under our weight. At the hallway's end, a single window stood sentinel, its glass pane reflecting our approaching figures in distorted shadows—two silhouettes stretched thin by candlelight.
"Won't Ace be mad?" The fairy's whisper from my pocket carried an edge of unease. "You didn't tell him you were leaving with Philip."
He was right. I'd followed Philip without a word to anyone—not Ace, not even Ann. The oversight left a bitter taste in my mouth, guilt coiling low in my belly. But something in Philip's manner had been too urgent to ignore, too raw beneath the alcohol.
