“You didn’t tell me it would be like this.”
Hecate’s voice is so faint that Ada almost misses it, but the sheer wonder in her tone is a delight to hear.
Up on the roof of the still-slumbering castle is where Ada always feels most at peace. The early morning air is cool, and the grounds are quiet, and over the far distant treetops, the sun rises in a wash of brilliant colour that makes her magic sing. Here, in this place that means everything to her, Ada can’t imagine who she would rather share this moment with than Hecate.
It’s exactly a year since Hecate first started teaching at the school, and Ada finally thinks that maybe she’ll stay. Maybe she can be happy here. Maybe Ada will get to keep her.
She turns to Hecate, stands up on her toes, and kisses her on the corner of her mouth. There’s a moment where she pulls away and looks into Hecate’s eyes, waiting, watching for her reaction, and then Hecate leans down and kisses her back, cautious but promising.
Maybe, Ada thinks, smiling against Hecate’s lips. Maybe.