Not yet.
The chamber Thalia gives us lies within the third ring at the base of one of the oldest towers.
The door forms from the living wall itself when she presses her hand against it. The wood separates along a seam so precise it becomes invisible once closed.
Inside the room, warmth surrounds us immediately.
A wide bed grown from pale wood. Woven blankets in muted greens and blues. A small table holding a basin of steaming water, a pitcher, and a plate of food.
Shelves built into the walls contain neatly folded clothing.
The far wall opens to a window where flowering vines act as curtains, filtering the green-ember light of the city outside.
The entire room pulses faintly with the steady rhythm of the Heartwood.
Peeble lands on the table and inspects the food.
“Finally. Sustenance. Real sustenance.”
“You do not eat,” Elle says.
“That is not the point. It is the principle of the thing.”
Thalia remains in the doorway, observing the room.
“The Verdance will adjust the chamber to your needs,” she says. “Temperature, light, even the firmness of the bed. Just speak to it. The city listens.”
“Thank you,” Elle says.
Thalia nods once.
She starts to leave, pauses, then looks back at us.
For a moment, the disciplined composure fades.
“I am glad you are here,” she says quietly.
Then she turns and the door seals behind her.
Silence settles in the room.
Peeble hops to the windowsill.
“I will be outside enjoying the view,” they announce. “Definitely not listening.”
They slip through the vines and disappear.
Elle and I stand alone in the warm quiet of the chamber.
“Hi,” she says.
The word is simple and entirely her.
“Hi,” I reply.
Then I cross the room and pull her into my arms while the living city hums softly around us.
He crosses the room in three strides, and his mouth finds mine before I finish breathing.
