Ch8. A First Glimpse of Violet

Jeffery did not sleep in his room at the inn in the eastern quarter.

He sat on the windowsill with one leg drawn up, his elbow resting on his knee and his chin slightly lowered. His eyes were turned toward the part of the night sky where the palace lay beyond sight.

The night wind made the candle beside the window flicker twice.

He did not shield it.

He was thinking about everything Addie had told him that day.

Jeffery was not a man who made a habit of keeping things.

Seven years on the road had taught him to travel light—to carry no unnecessary luggage, keep no unnecessary memories, and never let his roots sink too deeply into any one place. Yet now he found that his mind was full of things about Anna.

And every one of them was painfully clear.

As though someone had taken a carving knife and etched each detail into him with careful, deliberate strokes.

Her hand had not trembled while holding the blade.

The way the morning light had rested against her profile.

The faint scent of blood when she had walked past him.

The exact place where the handle of the letter opener had been worn smooth.

Jeffery lowered his eyes toward the hidden pocket at his chest.

His right hand settled over it, feeling the familiar shape through the fabric.

He had told her that he was the son of a witch. When the words left his mouth, he had not thought too much about them. Or perhaps he had. And said them anyway.

Of course he knew what it meant to say something like that in Losinitro.

Seven years of wandering had taught him the laws and taboos of this continent better than most people would ever know them.

That included this kingdom’s attitude toward witchcraft.

And still— he had told her. Jeffery raised his head and looked toward the narrow strip of night sky cut between the walls. A quiet breath escaped him. Why had he said it? He searched for an answer for a long time.

What he finally found was incomplete, but it was the closest thing to the truth.

Because she had been standing there.

Because there had been despair in her eyes.

Because in that moment, he had felt she deserved to hear something true. Not the smooth, weightless conversation a wanderer used to brush people aside. Something real.

He had given her the truth. She had left the blade with him.

Jeffery’s thumb moved slowly once over the hidden pocket. Then stopped. Far outside the window, the metallic beat of a night watchman’s gong sounded through the darkness.

It faded. The candle flame trembled again. This time, Jeffery raised a hand and shielded it from the wind until it steadied.

He did not know whether Anna was asleep. But if she was still awake, he hoped the thing occupying her thoughts was not that blade.

Anything else. Anything at all. He remained there beside the window through the night. Until the candle burned itself out.

Until the final watchman’s gong disappeared into the darkness. Only then did Jeffery finally close his eyes. ＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿ Early the next morning, Addie knocked on Anna’s door.

She had come to tell her that she was about to go find Jeffery.

After several days, Anna was finally going to speak to him again. And if she were being truthful, she was nervous. Uneasy. There was even the faintest trace of anticipation there—something so small that she herself had not yet noticed it.

Morning light spilled through the narrow gaps beside the window and washed one corner of the room in pale gold. Anna sat before the bronze mirror while Addie gathered and arranged her hair behind her.

The quiet sound of the comb moving through her hair filled the room.

Anna watched her own face in the mirror. Her expression was difficult to name. But compared with yesterday, there was at least a little more clarity and life in her complexion. She had slept last night. Actually slept.

Not the kind of shallow sleep that lasted until dawn only to leave her more exhausted than before.

She had sunk into it. And when she opened her eyes again, morning had already come.

She did not know whether it was because of the pastries. Or because of something else. Addie placed the final hairpin into position and gave Anna’s shoulder a gentle pat. Then she met Anna’s eyes in the mirror. “I’m going to the eastern quarter.” Her tone was calm.

“My lady knows what I’m going there for.” Anna said nothing. She lowered her eyes instead, looking at the hands resting in her lap. Her fingers moved once. Then stopped. The unease was real.

So was the nervousness. And so was that faint expectation she had not yet recognized.

But Anna had given it other names. I’m only going to thank him. Once I’ve said it, it will be over. She used those two thoughts to press the expectation down.

Addie crouched beside her and looked up into her face.

“My lady.” She waited until Anna looked down and met her eyes.

“Think about what you want to say.”

She paused. A small smile touched her mouth.

“But don’t think too hard.”

Anna immediately became even more nervous. Her small fingers caught lightly in the fabric of her skirt. “I—I… I can just say thank you…”

She truly did not know what else she was supposed to say. She was afraid that if she said too much, she would say the wrong thing.

And if she said too little, she might miss the point entirely. So perhaps thank you really was enough.

Because the two of them probably would not meet again. He would leave. And she would remain inside this palace, quietly waiting for the day she was forced to marry a man she did not love. That was the fate waiting for her. Addie looked at the small hands clutching Anna’s skirt. And at the deep resignation in her eyes when she said, “Thank you is enough.”

She did not answer. She only stood, returned the comb to the dressing table, and remained with her back to Anna for two silent seconds.

Then she turned around and crouched before her again.

She covered Anna’s hands with her own. She said nothing at first. Simply held them there until Anna raised her eyes. Then Addie spoke quietly, as though telling her a secret known only to the two of them. “My lady, of course you can thank him.” Her thumb moved gently over the back of Anna’s hand.

“But…” She looked directly into Anna’s eyes. “He isn’t leaving.” Addie did not explain why Jeffery had stayed. She said nothing more.

She simply placed those words between them, firm and steady as ballast at the bottom of a ship.

“So after you finish saying thank you—” The corner of her mouth curved slightly.

“There will still be plenty of time.”

Anna’s fingers tightened instinctively.

Then loosened again. A small reaction to those words. He isn’t leaving. “If he isn’t leaving…”

She lowered her head slightly.

The rest of the sentence remained unspoken. Why wasn’t he leaving? She did wonder. She wanted to know. But part of her also thought it had nothing to do with her. “If he isn’t leaving… maybe we can talk a little longer.”

A small smile appeared on her face. “If we get the chance…”

Addie saw that smile. It was not deep. Not bright. It looked like the flame of a candle just after being lit—tiny enough that a single breath might extinguish it. But it was real. The truest smile Addie had seen on Anna’s face in days.

Something inside Addie’s chest tightened sharply. She said nothing. Only lowered her head and smoothed the wrinkle Anna had made in her skirt.

Once. Twice.

Slowly. As though it were something terribly important. Then she stood and walked toward the door. Her hand was already on the handle when she turned back. “My lady.” Her voice was light.

Almost something the wind might carry away. Anna looked up. Addie watched her with the deep tenderness of someone who had spent years quietly holding her together.

And in her eyes was the faintest trace of moisture—something almost like happiness for Anna, though Addie herself had not noticed it.

“Why he isn’t leaving…”

She paused. “When you see him, ask him yourself.” Then she opened the door just enough to slip through and left the words behind in the room.

With Anna.

And with that tiny flame that had only just begun to burn inside her.

Anna remained seated at the dressing table, looking at herself in the mirror.

Thinking about what Addie had said.

When she saw him, she could ask him herself.

But if he had already decided not to leave, did she really need to know why?

…She was a little curious.

She wanted to know what any of it had to do with the fact that he had seen her standing on that tower. For now, all she could do was wait. Wait quietly for Addie to come back.

Wait for the moment when she and Jeffery would meet again. ＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿ Morning in the eastern quarter still carried the chill of the night before.

A thin layer of dew covered the stone road, making it slightly slippery beneath the feet. Jeffery sat on a bench outside the inn. A bowl of hot porridge rested before him.

He had eaten a few more mouthfuls than he had the day before. But still had not finished it. He was waiting.

He did not know what he was waiting for.

Or rather— he did know. He simply refused to make that knowledge too clear, allowing it to remain blurred beneath the weight in his chest. Waiting with it.

Just as he pushed the bowl away and began to rise, intending to finish exploring the alley he had left unfinished the day before— he saw Addie. Jeffery stopped halfway through the movement. Then sat back down. The knuckles of his right hand tapped once against his knee. Then went still.

Addie approached and stopped before him.

There was a familiar curve at the corner of her mouth—the same kind of smile he had seen the day before, one that seemed to be hiding an answer.

“Our lady…”

Her tone was calm, as though she were merely informing him of something already decided.

“Would like to see you.” Jeffery was silent for two seconds. Only two. Then he stood. His movement was steady. Not rushed. But without the slightest hesitation.

Like a man who had been waiting a very long time with his answer already prepared, needing only for someone to finally ask the question.

“When.” It did not sound like a question. Addie looked at his face.

In those amber eyes, she saw the banked coals that had been smoldering for days suddenly burn a little higher. She smiled. “Right now.” The words sent the faintest tremor through Jeffery’s chest. He glanced down at himself. The coat he wore had been changed yesterday and was still presentable.

His sword hung at his waist.

Several strands of hair had come loose in the morning breeze.

He raised a hand and quickly pushed them back into place. Such a small movement that he probably did not even realize he had done it.

Addie noticed. She struggled to keep from smiling. Jeffery pushed the bowl toward the stall, straightened, and looked at Addie. “Let’s go.” His tone was level. He followed half a step behind her. His pace was just slightly slower than usual. So slightly that even he did not notice.

There was something beneath his feet that felt like walking over a lake covered in thin ice.

Steady.

Yet strangely light. As though he could not be entirely sure whether the next step would crack the surface beneath him. She wanted to thank him. He knew that. He had expected it from the beginning.

And yet his right hand still rose unconsciously to the hidden pocket at his chest.

Through the fabric, he felt the outline of the blade.

The worn place on the handle he had already touched more times than he could count.

She would say thank you. He would accept it. And then somehow— he would find a way to make her say a few more words. ＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

Meanwhile, Anna waited in her room for Addie to return. She kept touching the hair that had already been carefully arranged. Just a little. Then again. Worrying that perhaps she did not look good enough. She cared more than she wanted to admit. By then, Addie had brought Jeffery to the entrance of the palace.

She had originally told Anna that the two of them would meet outside the gate, speak, and then part ways.

But how could that possibly be enough? So Addie moved slightly closer to Jeffery and lowered her voice.

“In a moment, I’ll tell the guards you’re a tailor here to make a gown for the princess.” She offered no further explanation.

Knowing what she did about Jeffery’s past, she was certain he would understand what to do. At the word tailor, Jeffery looked down at the sword hanging from his waist. He was silent for one second. Then he unfastened it and handed it backward to Addie with perfect ease. “Hold this for me.” His voice was low and flat.

By the time Addie took the sword, Jeffery had already adjusted the collar of his coat and rolled his sleeves halfway up his forearms. Then he pulled out the piece of wood he had been carving the day before. He weighed it once in his hand. A tailor would not carry a sword.

But he might carry a measuring stick.

The piece of wood was not a measuring stick. From a distance, however, it was close enough. Seven years on the road had taught Jeffery many things. One of them was that identity was not written on a person’s face. It lived in posture.

Act like the person you claim to be, and most people would believe you were. He raised his head and gave Addie a single nod. Ready. Then he changed the rhythm of his stride. More restrained than a knight. More composed than a servant. Neither submissive nor arrogant.

The steady walk of a craftsman who knew exactly what his hands were capable of.

When they reached the guards at the gate, Jeffery lowered his eyes slightly and let Addie speak.

He stood half a step behind her, turning the piece of wood once between his fingers with a focused expression, like a man preoccupied with measurements and fabric.

His heart was beating half a pace faster than usual. None of it showed on his face. The guard at the entrance was a man in his forties. An old scar marked his face. His posture was straight, the unmistakable stance of a veteran. Beside him stood a younger guard with a round face. When Addie approached, the younger man first looked past her toward Jeffery.

Addie stepped forward with perfect composure. “Thank you for your work.” She dipped into a small bow. Neither servile nor presumptuous.

“I am Addie, maid to Her Highness. This gentleman is a well-known tailor from the city. Her Highness instructed me to bring him here today so he may take measurements for several new gowns.” The older guard did not answer immediately. His gaze moved from Addie to Jeffery. He looked him over carefully. Jeffery remained where he was.

Head slightly lowered. He turned the piece of wood once between two fingers.

Stopped. Then raised his eyes to the guard.

There was just the right amount of mild irritation in his expression—the look of a craftsman whose calculations had been interrupted.

As though his mind were still occupied with fabric and measurements and the guard was wasting his time. Then he lowered his eyes again. And resumed turning the piece of wood. The younger guard leaned slightly toward the veteran. “Did Her Highness send notice today?” The older man did not answer.

He continued studying Jeffery for a long time. Addie remained perfectly calm. From her sleeve, she took out a neatly folded strip of cloth. On it was a wax seal used by Anna’s chambers—something Addie had deliberately prepared the night before.

It was not an important royal document. Only the kind of seal normally used on everyday purchase lists and household messages.

But the seal itself was genuine. “Her Highness needs new mourning clothes prepared for her mother’s death anniversary. She was concerned there would not be enough time, so she ordered the arrangements made early.”

Addie held out the cloth.

“If you need to send someone to confirm it, I can wait here. It’s only that Her Highness…” She lowered her brows slightly, looking faintly troubled. “Both of you know her temper better than I need to explain.” The veteran took the cloth and examined it. The seal was correct.

He returned it to Addie and stepped half a pace aside.

“Go in. And don’t wander around the palace.” Addie bowed in thanks and entered at an unhurried pace. Jeffery followed. As he passed the veteran, he could feel the scarred man’s gaze lingering on his back.

He did not turn. Only tightened his grip slightly around the piece of wood.

His footsteps remained steady.

His breathing remained steady. Until the shadow of the gate swallowed him completely. Only then did he quietly exhale. The air inside the palace walls was different.

Cooler. Heavier. The kind of air that belonged to stone buildings, as though something had been shut inside them for too long and, unable to escape, had slowly settled deeper and deeper into the walls.

Jeffery followed Addie without hurrying. But his eyes were constantly moving.

He was watching. The pattern of the stone flooring. The distance between columns. The routes used by guards changing shifts. Which corners of the corridors offered the largest blind spots. Which direction gave him a view of the abandoned tower.

He absorbed each detail quickly and quietly.

His face still wore the distracted expression of a craftsman thinking about his work.

But his gaze was like a finely woven net. Spreading silently. Gathering silently. Then he saw the tower. Only part of its outline.

A gray, weathered edge visible between two palace buildings. It looked wrong beside the carefully carved architecture surrounding it. Like an old, forgotten tooth left where it no longer belonged.

Jeffery’s step faltered for half a beat. Then continued. Addie turned her head slightly. “We’re almost there.” Her voice was low enough that only he could hear.

Jeffery did not answer. He simply tightened his hand once around the piece of wood, grounding himself in its rough, solid texture.

His breathing settled lower.

He had crossed countless cities in his life. Climbed over countless walls. Slept in strange places.

Woken in dangerous ones. Never had a road felt this slow.

His footsteps were not slow. Yet every one of them seemed to land with unusual weight. Like a path leading somewhere he could not yet name.

His amber eyes stayed on Addie’s back. Then moved beyond her. To the door at the end of the corridor. She’s in there. Jeffery pressed the thought down. Pressed all its weight into the soles of his feet.

And simply walked. One step. Then another. Then another. Addie stopped before the door. Raised her hand. And knocked three times. The sound traveled softly down the corridor.

Yet in Jeffery’s chest, it struck with far more weight than those three small knocks should have carried.

He stood half a step behind Addie.

The piece of wood stopped moving between his fingers. His breathing was even. His shoulders relaxed. His jaw loose.

He called on every habit he had spent years building to keep himself composed. He did it well. Only the hand holding the wood betrayed him.

His knuckles were slightly whiter than usual.

Addie’s voice passed softly through the door. “My lady, I’ve brought him.”

For one moment, the corridor went silent. In that moment, Jeffery’s gaze lowered.

To the narrow gap beneath the door. To the grain of the wood. To the seam between the stones at the threshold. He did not truly know what he was looking at.

His eyes simply needed somewhere to rest.

Somewhere solid.

He wondered what expression she wore now.

The same stillness he had seen on the tower—something deeper than exhaustion?

Or something else? The person in his dreams had never shown him her face. Anna he had seen twice.

Both times in poor light. Once at night. Once in the gray hour just before dawn. He wondered what she looked like in daylight. Then the door opened. Not by Addie. From the inside. Jeffery raised his eyes. Light poured from the windows inside the room, brightening the figure in the doorway. And there she was. She looked smaller than he remembered.

Or perhaps, during all those hours spent waiting against the city wall, he had drawn her too many times in his mind.

Made her too large.

Made her into something too heavy. Yet the person standing before him now was real. Very young. A girl with something in her eyes that he still did not know how to name.

His heart gave one clear beat. Not hard. But unmistakable. Jeffery said nothing. He simply stood there. Let her look first. Let her speak first.

Leaving every choice of what came next to her. Just as he had on the tower.

He did not take. Did not push. He was simply there. Waiting. His amber eyes rested gently and steadily on her face, carrying the patience of someone who had spent seven years turning waiting into a habit. And yet— the corner of his mouth curved by the faintest degree. Anna opened the door.

And when she saw Jeffery standing directly in front of her, she nearly jumped. During the entire time she had been waiting, she had fussed endlessly over her appearance.

Worried she would not look pretty enough. Worried that if she went outside the city gate, the wind would ruin her hair.

And now all of it seemed ridiculous. “W-why is he here…?” She tried to keep her voice down, but could not hide her panic.

“Addie, didn’t you say we were going to talk outside the gate and then he would leave?” Addie stood behind Jeffery with the perfectly calm expression of someone who had absolutely not planned any of this.

“It’s windy outside the city gate.” She spoke with complete seriousness. “My lady is injured. You shouldn’t be standing out in the wind.” Anna glared at her. Addie met the look with the flawless, respectful expression she had spent years perfecting.

“I’ll prepare some tea.”

Then she slipped past Jeffery. Past Anna. And walked away down the corridor with light steps.

Like a leaf floating away on water.

Without the slightest trace of guilt. She disappeared around the corner. Only Jeffery and Anna remained. Jeffery looked in the direction Addie had gone for one second. Then turned back to Anna. She’s flustered. He quietly filed the detail away.

He did not point it out. Only lowered his eyes toward the piece of wood in his hand, then slipped it naturally into his sleeve as though nothing unusual had happened.

When he looked up again, his eyes met hers. The faint curve at his mouth deepened by the smallest amount.

Not mockery. Just a warmth he probably did not realize he was allowing to show. “Sorry to intrude.” His voice was low and even. There was a trace of apology in it.

But he did not retreat even half a step.

Anna remained silent for a moment. Just say it now. Then he can leave.

That was what she told herself. But she only stood there. Her lips parted slightly. No sound came. Her lashes trembled.

And in the daylight, Jeffery finally saw the true color of her eyes.

Violet. A color he had never seen before in all his years alive, in all the places he had crossed.

Anna stepped back a few paces, leaving room for him to enter.

“Come in.” Her voice was gentle. But there was a tremor in it that had not been there several days ago.

Jeffery froze. Not because she had moved aside. Not because she had said, Come in. Because of her eyes. Violet. He had spent seven years crossing deserts. He had walked over the frozen rivers of the north. He had lost his way in the dense forests of the south. He had seen eyes of every imaginable color.

The color of the sea.

The color of minerals beneath sunset. The color of snowmelt at the beginning of spring. But never this. Violet. Like something that should have existed only in dreams.

And yet it was here. Real. Quiet. With that faint, inexplicable tremor inside it. Looking directly into his eyes. His breathing stopped. Quietly. For one full second. Then Jeffery lowered his gaze and quickly forced the moment of stunned stillness back down.

Not quite quickly enough.

The tips of his ears had begun to warm again. He stepped over the threshold. Entered the room. When he passed Anna, no more than an arm’s length separated them. From her direction came the faintest scent. Something he could not name.

Like fresh flowers placed on a windowsill in the morning. Not strong. But unmistakably real. Jeffery stopped in the center of the room.

He did not look around. Did not let his gaze wander through a princess’s private chambers.

Instead, he raised his eyes and looked at her again. “You look…” His voice was softer than it had been in the corridor. Deliberately lowered. “A little better than you did that day.”

It was the truth. And as he said it, there was something quiet in his eyes.

Something loosening inside him that he could not quite suppress or explain.

At the mention of her complexion, Anna instinctively touched her cheek. Do I look pretty right now? The question kept repeating itself inside her.

She did not know who she was asking. Still, she gave him a small smile. The polite social smile she had learned through countless tedious banquets. “Thanks to you.”

Her voice was mild. A little distant. A little nervous.

Then she paused, sensing almost immediately that perhaps she should not have answered that way. She really ought to be warmer. More familiar. Especially toward the man who had saved her life.

“Please, sit.”

She stepped toward the sofas and waited for him to take the one upholstered in alternating shades of pale and deep purple, carved delicately along the frame. The rest of her room followed the same refined palette of soft, elegant purples.

Almost the same color as her eyes.

Jeffery had noticed the way she touched her cheek. The tiny gesture fell into some unguarded place inside him like a pebble into still water, sending out the faintest ring of ripples.

He said nothing. He followed her toward the sofa and sat where she indicated. His movements were easy. His spine straight. Nothing about him suggested this was his first time sitting inside a royal woman’s private chambers.

Seven years on the road had taught him to sleep in fields. In abandoned barns. He had even, from time to time, been invited into the halls of minor lords as a wandering knight. He had long since learned how to sit comfortably in places that did not belong to him without betraying the slightest unease.

And yet, as he sat, his gaze dropped briefly to the sofa. Pale purple. Deep purple. Carved wood. The colors of her eyes. Jeffery quietly filed the detail away. Carefully. He looked up.

Anna still stood beside the sofa.

He saw the faint, distant smile on her face. A smile someone had taught her to wear in a thousand formal rooms. He had seen enough such smiles in his life to recognize one immediately. He did not expose it. Instead, he rested his elbows lightly on his knees and leaned forward a little. Changing his posture from sitting formally to listening. “You said, ‘Thanks to you.’”

He paused. That barely visible curve returned to the corner of his mouth. “That doesn’t sound much like the way you normally speak.”

His amber eyes rested on her face. Not questioning. Simply observing.

Quietly attentive. As though he saw her more clearly than she expected. He was waiting for her to set aside the smile she had learned at banquets. Anna stiffened.

Then sat down as well. On the other sofa.

Almost diagonally across from Jeffery. A distance she chose deliberately. For some reason, she did not quite dare to sit close to him.

It felt as though something might be exposed. She often felt that way around people. But with Jeffery, the feeling was stronger. “No. I always speak this way.”

Again, the politeness came instinctively.

The perfect manners of a doll trained from childhood.

Then suddenly— she went quiet. What was she supposed to say? What should she say?

Jeffery heard her insist that she always spoke that way. He did not argue. He simply watched her. Watched her choose the seat diagonally across from him. Watched the careful distance she placed between them.

Watched the way, after speaking, she seemed like a taut string that had suddenly lost all sense of where it was meant to go.

Silent. Almost awkward. He nearly smiled. Not because he was mocking her.

It was the quiet warmth that rose in him whenever he saw something genuine.

Something rare. Jeffery did not rush to fill the silence. He let it remain between them for several seconds. Then, as though continuing a conversation that had already begun long ago, he spoke. “Your back.” He paused. “Does it still hurt?”

His gaze remained on her. This was not polite concern. He genuinely wanted to know. There was something in his voice he probably had not realized was there. A concern too real to fully conceal. He did not ask about her thanks. Did not ask about the three months. Did not ask about Geelong. Did not ask about the king’s study.

He asked only that.