"There you are," he hoisted himself up the last rung of the ladder and onto the roof of the inn.
Daine looked up, surprised.
"I didn't know you were looking for me."
"I knocked on your door."
"You did?" Something flickered in her expression and he flushed, realizing the hour. The soft-blue of impending dawn washed over her, almost a perfect match to the gauzy gown bunched above her knees. Her hair was falling in waves from the fastenings that had failed hours ago.
He faltered, clearing his throat as he sat next to her. "I don't think I realized how late it was." He pulled at his collar, loosening the ties of his silk shirt. "Or early."
"Seems like the night got away from everyone." She leaned back on her hands, legs stretched out and knees bent in front of her. Her skirts slid higher on her thighs, all cool-blue skin, and it was clear she hadn't bothered with stockings. She always complained that she couldn't wear them once without getting runs. Her slippers were nowhere to be seen.
"I'm surprised you're alone." He looked around for the telltale sign of any of the people, and found none. A rare sight.
When he met her eyes he saw the question, and understood the implication of his words. He opened his mouth to explain, but she understood without him needing to.
"The bats have roosted, and the cats have yet to rise."
"Ah. And so, the word is quiet."
"For a moment."
He tapped his finger against the roof, feeling the grain of the shingles beneath his touch. Below, the last of the revelers could be seen creeping home alone or in pairs. In the distance the first promises of the new day were creeping above the mountains.
"I'm surprised you're alone." She spoke but didn't look at him. He studied her, making sure he understood the implication. There was little room for misunderstanding.
He sighed, "I'm with exactly who I want to be." He hadn't realized he'd been practicing this skill—telling the truth to making sure it stayed hidden in plain sight. She sighed but didn't answer.
From their vantage point, they watched the sunrise mount the horizon and creep across the valley. The earliest of the birds began to sing, and soon the cats would wake. From there the rest of the world would come to life. He wasn't ready. He wanted to stay in that brief, quiet moment a while longer. Where it was just the two of them.
As if she knew his thoughts she reached over, and placed her hand on his. He grasped it, tighter than he could pass off as casual affection, and lifted it to his lips to place a soft kiss on her knuckles.
She leaned against his shoulder and her curls fell across his neck in waves. He leaned into the touch, pressing his cheek into the top of her head. He tried to remember if he'd ever let such physical intimacy linger between them. He wasn't sure he ever had, not in this way. He wanted it too badly.
The sunlight swept forward, washing everything in gold. A cock crowed somewhere below, and kitchen maids were stumbling, bleary-eyed, towards the well in the town-square. She pulled her feet up under her as dawn reached the roof, trying to stay in the pre-dawn and sitting up straight.
"I think I need to get some sleep."
"Of course," he swallowed and watched her back off the roof. She clung to the ladder, pausing.
"I'm glad you knocked on my door," she bit her lip, "but you don't have to; it's open."
He blinked against the sunlight framing her and licked his lips. "Alright."
She nodded and was gone. He leaned forward, eyes adjusting in the light of a new day.