Nova stares ahead at the view.

It really is breathtaking. The highest tower of the castle makes her feel like she’s on top of the world. And maybe she is.

From here, the rolling hills looks like little bumps. Ones that you wouldn’t really think about when you travel over them. An overhead of the Wild Thicket doesn’t look so bad. Like a normal forest. Not one with many dangers that one can only imagine in one’s nightmares.

Being at the castle, trying to have people warm up to Haze and the idea of witches in general has been…different. It’s not all been sunshine and rainbows, but Nova can tell that some are slowly changing their mindsets. They don’t clutch their weapons when Haze passes them anymore.

They do when they are near Nova. But that’s to be expected. They should.

She prefers it that way.

This is her favorite place in the castle. Or outside of it. She’s probably not supposed to be up here, but it’s worth it. The breeze is cooler, blowing through her hair, reminding her of being at the tippy top of the tallest tree in the Wild Thicket.

It just changes her perspective. It reminds her that her life is just a small speck of the world.

“What are you thinking about?”

Nova doesn’t turn her head. She knew it was Ward. His footsteps are very distinct. He bounds through life with enthusiasm but somehow still orderly. Organized chaos. That’s what his steps sound like.

He sits next to her, matching her position with his feet dangling over the edge.

“Life.” She intentionally answers vaguely. While she’s not a talker, it is mostly to bother him.

Not someone who is easily bothered, he takes her ambiguity well and keeps talking. “Very philosophical. Anything you want to share?”

“Nope,” she replies, popping the ‘p’.

They sit in silence for a minute. A glorious minute.

She can hear her thoughts better when he’s not talking. He tends to….muddle her normal cognitive ability. But that quietness can only last so long.

“Where’d you get that?” It takes her a second to realize he’s pointing at her upper arm. Almost exactly between her shoulder and her elbow is a silvery scar. It swirls almost like a pretty tattoo or birthmark. But it has a much darker origin.

“Oh this? One of the king’s knights got a bit close. It was a long time ago.”

Instead of judgy eyes and defending quips that she expects, she is met with a frown. Not one of coldness but one of disappointment. Not at her though. At his fellow guards. And trust her, she knows the difference.

“Haze and I stupidly split up and I was cornered. While I like to think I can fight well, I was outnumbered,” Nova reminisces.

“You don’t give up easily,” he says to no one in particular.

Once she began, she finds it difficult to stop. She never felt so comfortable with someone before. Not even Haze knows all of the details. “No I don’t. But they knew what my weakness was. Haze. They tricked me. I was more trusting back then, gullible. They told me they had Haze. That I had to do what they said to save her.”

“What did they do?” He gently pushes. It appears that he needs to know as much as Nova needs to spill.

“More like what did they make me do. That scar? I did it. To myself.”

Uncharacteristic to his talkative nature, he says nothing. An intense look glazes over his eyes.

She turns away from his face. That also causes her thoughts to becomes less coherent. Instead, she looks in front of her, appearing to watch the view. But both of them know she isn’t seeing the sunset. Not really.

“It was by your own hand?” The slight tremor in his voice catches her off guard, but she tries to not let it affect her.

“I guess physically yes. With my own knife too. I felt like a puppet. They were controlling the strings.” She feels her throat start to constrict, so she takes a beat to compose herself. Her fingers ghost over the hilt of her knife. The same knife that she used that day. “But after Haze saved me and later healed me, I vowed that I would never be controlled like that ever again. So I trained. I always knew how to survive, but I took it to a new level after that. Haze and I stuck together too. It affected her a lot. When she saw what they made me do.”

She expects some dramatic, sappy speech from Ward. But maybe she should stop assuming things about him. Rather than that, she startles from the light, feathery touch on her arm, just below her scar.

Even though she might regret it, she faces him again, looking him in the eyes. No judgment. Not a single sliver of pity. She sees only kindness. Empathy. Sorrow.

She nods to him and his hand hovers over her scar, just barely grazing it. Unconsciously, her eyelids flutter shut. It’s been so long since someone was this gentle with her.

“How can you be so hopeful? You’ve been through so much. You have every reason not to believe in anyone. To believe the worst in almost everyone,” he asks.

“Because it isn’t about me, Ward. It’s about Haze. I’m hopeful because the only person I do trust is her. She needs hopeful, so that’s what I am. Because I believe in her,” her tone is firm and clear. This is about Haze and the horrific stereotypes and treatments witches get. Nova is just a witch adjacent.

His continuous touch on her arm is making her feel fuzzy. Like she doesn’t remember what she was going to say next.

“So Haze is the only one you trust? Sounds lonely,” Ward comments, fingers tracing the swirls she dug into her skin. Somehow it doesn’t bring the painful memories to the forefront when he does that. Just a weird feeling in her gut.

Nova is never one to give encouragement or reassurance to another that isn’t her sister, but she finds herself attempting to with Ward. “It may help to have a trusted knight on our side too.”

Her words seem to do the trick. A smile forms on his lips.

The feeling intensifies. And spread to her heart as well.

“I want to be someone you trust,” he whispers, words as light as his strokes to her scar.

“You’re off to a good start.”

His smile widens. And then there’s a tug to her heart.

Maybe it’s a medical condition?

His hand trails down from her upper arm down to her hand. Neither of them says a word. Nova isn’t sure that either of them breathe as he slowly interlaces their fingers. It’s intentionally slow, in case Nova wants to pull away.

Somehow, against all that she’s ever known, she doesn’t want to pull away.

She wants to lean in.