Eira
It was nearly midnight when Eira crept into the cellar, her boots held in one hand to keep the floorboards from making a sound.
The bakery was silent, smelling of cooling stone and the faint, lingering spice of Milla's ginger cookies.
"Soren," she whispered, nudging his shoulder. "Wake up. We're going out."
Soren bolted upright, his hand darting toward the violet lantern before he realized it was her.
He rubbed his eyes. "Eira? Is there a raid? Are the Wardens-"
"No," she tossed the heavy wool bundle Mrs. Gable had left into his lap. "Put this on. We're taking the roof-line path. It isn't good for you to stay in here for too long. You need sunlight."
Soren stared at her. "You're coming too?"
Eira nodded, shrugging on her jacket. "Milla is still asleep, and Noa went out to buy treats." She jerked her chin toward the bundle. "Try it on."
Soren unfurled the cloak, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. "This is massive. I look like a tent."
"It's a very stealthy tent," Eira smiled. "Now let's go. Before Milla wakes up and makes you scrub the ovens instead."
They moved like shadows across the frost-slicked shingles of the Mid-Tier. Pip snuggled in the crook of Soren's arm, his orange fur tucked safely inside the cloak.
They didn't stop until they reached the edge of the Hanging Gardens.
A few years ago, this place had been the jewel of Oakhaven.
The Gardens were a sprawling glass greenhouse that hung near the cliffside, housing exotic plants within its warm, transparent walls while stone balconies looked out over the drop.
They sat on the edge of a weathered stone balustrade, their feet dangling over a drop that vanished into misty darkness.
"I haven't been here since last year's festival night," Soren said quietly, pulling the cloak tighter. "I had seen you and Milla together. You were wearing a dress with these little gold glass beads."
Eira felt a flush creep up her neck. "I might've seen you." Eira smiled. "The man standing against a pillar, attempting to look brooding and mysterious, until he tripped over a flower pot."
Soren let out a dry snort. "In my defence, that pot was placed with malicious intent. And I wasn't brooding. I was trying to figure out if I could sneak an entire plate of those little honey-cakes out without being tackled by a Warden."
"You were always thinking about your stomach," Eira teased, nudging his shoulder with hers.
"It's a very demanding stomach," he countered.
The laughter faded into a comfortable silence.
"Eira," Soren said, his voice turning soft and hesitant. "Why did you really come back for me? That night in the cellar... you could have left me to the Wardens. You could have stayed the girl who hated me."
Eira looked out at the horizon, where the faint glow of the Lower-Tier buildings lingered. "Because when I look at you, in a way... you're part of my father now. You're carrying a piece of his heart, even if your lantern is violet. I couldn't let that heart stop beating twice."
Soren's expression faltered. He looked down at his boots, a shadow crossing his face. "Oh. So... you helped me because I'm like a vessel for his memory?" He gave a small, sad smile, trying to mask the sting. "It's fine. Honestly, I did take his light. It's the least I can do, being a stand-in for a better man."
"No," Eira said quickly, turning to face him. "That's not-I didn't mean it like that."
She reached out, her fingers brushing the rough wool of his sleeve. She tried to find the words to explain that his presence had started to mean something more to her. She liked the way he listened.
She liked his strange, booming laugh and the way he treated Pip like a treasure, instead of a simple animal. She realized, with a sudden jolt in her chest, that she simply liked him.
"It's... it's complicated," she started, "But you aren't a ghost to me."
Soren watched her, his gaze intense and searching, but he didn't push. "Complicated is better than 'murderer,'" he smiled.
As the first hint of pre-dawn grey touched the sky, Eira checked the small silver watch pinned to her wrist. "I have to go. Mrs. Gable needs a specific sample of Moon-Lily nectar from the High-Tier."
They made their way back to the bakery in a comfortable, lingering silence. At the back door, Eira paused, looking at Soren in the fading moonlight. He looked tired, but he looked alive.
"Stay in the cellar today," she said, offering him a genuine, lingering smile. "Milla has extra cinnamon rolls for you."
"Good luck," Soren smiled, waving as he watched her turn toward the Great Stair.
Eira didn't look back, but the warmth of the gardens stayed with her all the way up the hill.