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The day had been a whirlwind the likes of which Navarre had never known. He’d had bad days and good, days that never seemed to end or where so much happened time seemed to fly. He could not remember any one where he had gone from such single-minded fury to utter despair to ascendent hope in such a short time. It made his head spin to think of everything that had passed, but even hours later that giddy bliss remained.
He glanced back toward the little shepherd’s croft behind him, where Isabeau slept, a smile on his face. At first reuniting with her had been like a dream, the best dream he could imagine, but they could only stand in the middle of that church among the startled gawkers for so long. He had killed the bishop, after all, and once the shock had worn off their happiness would not protect them from Aquila’s soldiers. If Imperius had needed to goad them into that realization, well, they did both understand the urgency once it was pointed out to them.
He and Isabeau had not broken contact even in their flight from Aquila. He’d helped her onto Goliath, kept a hand on her leg as he’d mounted behind her, ridden from the city with her back to his chest, arms wrapped around her.
They’d left Philippe and Imperius behind. There had been enough confusion that the monk and the thief didn’t think they were in much danger. They hadn’t been in the center of things, and they were forgettable enough that even the monk’s old donkey cart would get them away safely. Navarre and Isabeau, on the other hand, were much less forgettable. They needed to move fast, make their escape before the confused and leaderless town thought to stop them.
Besides, they wanted to be alone, just the two of them. He thought perhaps that had been foremost on Imperius’ mind when the monk had told them to go with a sly little smile.
He’d taken them to a half-remembered place, this abandoned old croft. The two of them had snuck off here a few times long ago, when they’d first courted, and used it again when they’d fled the bishop and his curse. It was a little worse for wear these days, but it was shelter and safety and they didn’t need much more than that. They’d certainly slept worse places in the last several years.
Sleep was not the first thing on their minds, anyway. They could not stop touching, could not break contact even as they’d dismounted, taken care of Goliath. She’d stayed right against his side, hand on his arm, and they had become frequently distracted by each other. Goliath had grown increasingly annoyed as they’d gotten sidetracked again and again, trading small touches, almost tentative kisses, hardly daring to believe the truth of their reunion.
Finally, still bridled and unacceptably hungry, Goliath had shouldered into them both hard enough to send them stumbling. The shared laughter at the big horse’s antics had felt incredible. When was the last time they had been able to do that, laugh together? The point had been taken, though, and they’d finished caring for Goliath before retreating into the little croft.
There had been more touching after that, and a few things rather beyond just touching. His only regret there was that, after the harrowing events earlier in the day, it hadn’t taken them long to exhaust themselves. As far as regrets went, he thought he could live with that one. They had time, after all. Finally, they had time.
They’d slept, tangled together. Isabeau still slept, but Navarre had roused a little before dusk. His heart had raced at first, his body sure that, despite the evidence, some aspect of the bishop’s curse lingered and he was about to become a wolf again. He’d lain in frozen silence for a long while, trying to keep his anxious breathing quiet and staring at Isabeau’s pale shape, reassuring himself that nothing was going to happen. She was here, human, the curse broken. There was no reason to think anything would happen to him when the sun went down.
And it hadn’t, of course. Eventually the fear had subsided, and a restless sort of curiosity had overtaken him instead. He was loathe to leave Isabeau’s side even now, but he couldn’t keep still and there was a certain draw to experience the night now. He hadn’t, not for a long time, not with these eyes and this body.
So he rose quietly, careful not to disturb Isabeau. He padded outside on bare feet, catching up his cloak and wrapping it around himself as the cold night air hit his skin. He took a quick breath at the chill, but only pulled the cloak near and kept moving almost dreamily forward.
When he reached the edge of the trees the sight that met him took his breath away. He stared upward, wide-eyed, at the star-filled vault of the sky. He’d seen the stars as a wolf, but his human eyes gave the sky such intense depth and clarity, and the wolf’s memories were hazy. It hadn’t cared about the night sky, and he could recall only vague impressions of most of his time in that body.
His eyes traced from star to star, picking out constellations that the wolf wouldn’t ever have noticed. He lifted a hand to trail fingertips along the cloudy glow spreading across the sky, lips moving as he slowly recalled the names of those shapes in the stars. He had forgotten how they looked, the delicate figures picked out in pale light. He’d forgotten how that so-faint illumination lined the edges of leaves and grass and stones, painting the world in blue and black. He’d forgotten how utterly deep the darkness could be to human eyes, the velvet texture of it.
He had forgotten so much , and he’d never even thought about it. He’d been so frantic for answers in the early days of the curse, and so bitterly set on revenge in the latter ones, it had never even occurred to him how much more the curse had taken from him beyond his love.
He stared at the stars, distantly saddened there was no moon tonight, and then before he knew it he was laughing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard. He clutched the cloak tighter around himself and laughed until he couldn’t breathe, until he had to lean against a tree to stay upright. There was nothing to do but let the immense wonder and joy of this night permeate him.
His laughter had at last subsided to gasping chuckles when a faint noise alerted him to Isabeau’s presence. He straightened unsteadily and turned to her, grinning so widely his face hurt. She looked puzzled at first, wearing only her boots and his tunic, but she relaxed as he beckoned her and fitted in against his side so he could wrap the cloak around them both.
“What are you doing out here?” She asked softly, leaning in to kiss his jaw “Aren’t you cold?”
He gave an emphatic nod “Yes, it’s wonderful,” he said breathlessly, and the cloak slipped from his shoulders as he gestured expansively with the arm that wasn’t around Isabeau “Look. Look at that! The night, the dark! Look at the stars!” He laughed again, turning to bury his nose in her hair “Isabeau, I haven’t seen like this in years! I didn’t even remember. . .”
He gestured again, at a loss for words. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered, hugging her close “It’s so beautiful. I can’t believe I forgot.”
He had expected some response from her, but she remained silent for long enough that he finally pulled away a little, wanting to see her face. Her eyes were wide and distant, expression thoughtful, and she moved again only when he touched her cheek lightly. “Sunlight!” She gasped, focusing on him now “I. . . wasn’t even paying attention earlier, everything was. . .”
Now it was her turn to give broad, vague gestures, her brow furrowing. He gave a wry chuckle, understanding perfectly. There had been so much going on earlier, so many things happening, and they had been so entirely wrapped up in each other there had been no time or attention to spare for noticing anything else.
“Yes,” he whispered, bending to rest his forehead against hers “Yes! Isabeau, sunlight! You can see. . . and I. . . we. . .” He broke into laughter again, and this time she joined him. He embraced her tightly and they spun in place, caught up once again in joy of breaking their curse, and the aspects of it that they hadn’t even considered. There were so many things he hadn’t realized they were missing, and now it felt as if they had no limits at all.
She pulled back at last, smiling still, and tugged at his hands. “Get dressed,” she commanded, dragging him back to the croft “We can watch the stars together. I’ve been doing it alone for too long.”
Hastily clothed, they raced back out of the trees a minute later, stumbling eager in their excitement over this simple pleasure. They slowed to a walk under the open sky, hand in hand as they gazed up. Navarre could not stop turning in slow circles, trying to see everything he could. He hoped he would never take the night for granted again.
They paid no mind to the passage of time as they walked and danced and the stars spun slowly above, not until the soft gray of pre-dawn lightened the world. They found a rock to settle on, arms around one another as they watched the eastern horizon. He could feel the same tension in Isabeau that he’d felt as night had fallen, that lingering fear that she would change, that she would witness the sun from a hawk’s golden eyes, feel its warmth on feathers instead of skin. He hugged her tightly, peppering her face and hair with kisses until she laughed and relaxed against him.
The sky grew paler, hiding the stars. Navarre mourned their loss and rejoiced in Isabeau’s anticipation, in the way her eyes lit like miniature suns themselves when the dawn broke at last. Together, he silently promised them both. They would witness every dawn and day and dusk and night together from this day forth.