❝ when she looks into his eyes, she feels the gripping temptation to tell him all her darkest secrets; the names of the men she has killed, but she learned a long time ago that the only people who can keep secrets are resting in overgrown graveyards...
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The halls of the castle are shrouded in delicate moonlight.
Quiet steps pad against the floors, and Calliope glances over her shoulder at the sound of a late-night patrol flanking down the other end of the hall. The guards nod at her, disappearing into another corridor. The aftermath of the Witchfinder's accusation was suspicion from Uther, resulting in the assassin getting the absolute worst patrol assignments and limiting her sleep. Since Aredian was proven to be a fraud, his claims lost all weight, but there's still a spark of question in the King's eye when he looks at Calliope.
So, here she is once again, in the early morning hours before the moon has even fell behind the mountains, patrolling empty hallways. A loud yawn escapes her lips, and she leans against the wall, cursing under her breath. Calliope's eyelids droop, but she shakes her head and blinks several times. Her hand falls to rest on the sheath of her sword. Perhaps she should just go down to the training grounds to wake herself up. They just built some new practice dummies, but Calliope isn't allowed to mess with them until the new knights have had their turn. Something about her dismembering all their good ones...
When she feels another yawn building in her throat, Calliope struggles to stand up straight. Not only has her sleep schedule been ruined, but when she actually does get a chance to rest, all she can picture is that dream hellscape she went to last week, along with the weird axe lady. Seeing the crescent moon symbol burned into the floor freaked her out, and then that weird riddle hasn't left her mind. Calliope has no idea what it means, and she even has spent some time going through the oldest books in the castle, and in Gaius's collection, but there's absolutely nothing about the symbol, or the Wolf, or anything at all that could help her figure this out.
Calliope steps into another hallway, still lost in thought, but her eyes widen and her dagger is in her hand in less than a second when a figure grabs her from behind.
With a quick maneuver and a jab to the ribs, her sharp blade is angled against her assailant's throat as she tries to pin him to the wall, but he flips their bodies and presses both of her hands above her head, trapping her.
"Looks like I know your moves all too well."
The familiar voice causes her muscles to relax, and she makes out Arthur's features against the soft moonlight just enough to see his wide smirk.
"Arthur," Calliope says with an annoyed breath, "what are you even doing out here?"
His grip on her hands doesn't falter. She can feel the heat from his body, and his breath fanning against her face in the dark.
"I went to your room, and you weren't there. I've been looking for you."
She quirks an eyebrow, "And what could you possibly want at this late hour?"
