***

If I throw myself into the sea now… or if I drink the poison Father gave me and end it all…

Leda stood upon the rocks. Waves crashed violently, surging up before shattering into foam.

When the gaunt-faced Darius had come to her chamber, she had answered without hesitation that she would go to the Empire. Yet she still did not know what she truly desired. Did she wish to die? Or, in spite of everything, did she still wish to live?

And now, the dark sea called to her. If she yielded to this tempest’s lure, would she not return to her parents’ embrace? Her legs trembled, ready to give way.

“Thinking of jumping?”

The familiar voice teased behind her.

It was him. The man she had met that day in Mainz. No—she could no longer be certain that it had been a chance at all.

A man who had seemed cold, yet kind. She had thought of him often afterward. Whenever sunlight spilled bright and golden through her window, she remembered him. She longed for him—the one who appeared without warning, stirring her heart into chaos.

She had never forgotten the first bewildering, secret thrill. She would look down at the hand he had held, tracing her own knuckles again and again. She had been curious, had wanted to see him. Truly, she had.

But that man had killed her parents. He had slaughtered Edelin’s people. He had seized her entire life. If she had known their reunion would be like this, she would never have longed for him, never wondered about him.

She saw first the shadow of the man who strode boldly into the castle. Behind him streamed the cool glow of autumn sunlight, pouring in through wide-open doors. When her gaze followed that long shadow upward, her breath caught in shock.

The man drew nearer. The crunch of gravel grew louder, steady and unhurried. Beneath eyes that burned darkly, his lips curved in a cruel smile.

“Step down from the rocks.”

The hand he offered her so casually was the same one that had clasped hers in Mainz. The large, warm hand she had clung to despite her shyness. The very same hand had wrought all of this.

The gulf between then and now made her chest pound violently. Helplessness pressed down upon her, so heavy she could barely stand.

His eyes never left her. Summoning the last of her strength, Leda glared back, her vision streaked with red.

“I despise you.”

The words burst from her lips, and she hurled herself into the sea.

The cold, raging waves seized her and flung her far out. The thought that she could simply sink filled her with a strange release. The stiff tension left her body. Slowly, she sank, and the sensation was not unpleasant.

If only she could sink forever, never rise again…

Suddenly, her body was caught in a brutal grip. She thrashed, trying to free herself, but there was no escaping his strength.

Her resistance ceased only when he dragged her back from the sea. He held her waist firmly, refusing to let go.

Soaked and trembling, her body shook violently. The sharp, rough rock beneath her palms tore into her skin. Gasping for breath, she retched, her whole body convulsing as she vomited seawater again and again. At last she collapsed, sprawled against the stone.

From behind, he lay beside her, pulling her into the steel of his arms. She struggled, then went limp.

His hand stroked her wet hair with unbearable tenderness. Rage flared within her.

“I wish you were dead too.”

Leda turned to face him, biting her lips. He only stared at her mouth, torn and bleeding, before crushing his own lips against hers. The taste of blood spread between them, but he did not stop.

Shocked, Leda raised her arm to push him away. He pinned her down, refusing to release her.

Tears filled her eyes, scattering as she shook her head violently. Saltwater and tears mingled, running down her cheeks.

He bit her lips mercilessly, crushing them until they were smeared with blood. Dizzied by the overwhelming tide of sensation, she shut her eyes tight.

Only after a long time did he finally pull back from her weakened body. Breath she had held spilled out in a rush, her shoulders heaving until at last they grew still. He did not leave her side.

“One day, you will bow your head and kiss the feet of those ruined by your sins.”

Her voice slipped out between her lips like a faint sigh, a curse. He gave no reply.

Instead, he gathered her into his arms. She could feel the beat of his heart. Turning her eyes away from the blood staining his mouth, she fixed her gaze on the sea. It was still black. The waves still raged.

***

As the day of Leda’s departure approached, the castle grew busy. Though none dared show it openly, everyone within the walls felt sorrow at her decision. Only Leda herself remained composed.

“My lady, you will be leaving this afternoon.” 

Said the envoys from the Greitz Empire who had come from the imperial palace. Their words were dry, perfunctory.

Leda waited quietly in her room for the carriage. After her parents’ funeral, she had spent three months in mourning. Now, at last, the day had come to leave Edelin.

That night, Prince Jupiter had saved her, and crushed her. Carried back into the castle in his arms, she had fallen into unconsciousness, only to wake the next day with bruises dark upon her lips.

Since then, standing before the mirror, Leda had broken that bruise again and again, reopening it each time. It was the punishment she gave herself for surviving. It was also her way of hating the part of herself that had responded, even in that shameful kiss, to his burning breath.

She was not as devout as her nursemaid had been. Yet she told herself she could cling to one belief, at least: that sinners could not be redeemed. That those who destroyed the lives of others would see their own lives destroyed. That one day, they would fall prostrate in the lowest of positions, kissing the very ground they had defiled, the feet of those they had ruined.

Even if such words were not divine mercy but curses. Even if they defied heaven itself. To her, this was what sin and punishment meant.

“My lady.”

Sinclair approached her with a troubled expression, unable to conceal the shadow of grief on his face. She forced a smile and held out a small box.

“Take it. I made it myself. With Father gone, I’m the only one left who can still make pens in this castle.”

Inside lay a pen crafted from a swan’s feather. Sinclair touched the gift in silence, his fingers lingering.

Leda clasped his hand firmly before stepping out with calm resolve. He reached for her desperately, but she was already striding swiftly down the corridor.

Soon, outside the castle, she was met by Darius and the people who had come to see her off. She climbed into the carriage. The horses began to pull forward at a slow pace.

Just then, someone within the castle began to play a minuet.

It was Haydn’s ‘Farewell Symphony.’

Within its quiet melody, Leda heard the chatter of her younger self.

“Sinclair! Have you ever played this piece?”

She remembered his awkward smile, his shake of the head.

“You know, at the very end, the musicians put out their candles one by one as they leave the stage, until only two violins are left. Isn’t that so romantic?”

She had thrust the sheet music into his hands, urging him to try the violin. She had even taught him how to read the notes. Before long, he had managed it with surprising skill.

Together, they lit every candle in her chamber, then blew them out one by one as he played. With each flame extinguished, she laughed louder. Back then, she had thought of such a farewell romantic. How naïve she had been.

Now, leaning from the carriage window, she caught sight of a candle flickering inside one of the castle’s windows.

She closed her eyes and, in her heart, blew out one of the two candles that remained. Holding back the sob that swelled to her throat, she let the darkness claim it.

Now, only one candle and one violin remained in the castle.

It was a farewell that could only have come from Sinclair.