As the slate-colored clouds began to blanket the sky, the first drops of rain fell upon the pavilion roof, their soft patter echoing like someone gently tapping the keys of a distant piano.
"I suppose our afternoon tea must end here,"
Rosalind said softly, her long, slender fingers reaching out to touch the rain that fell in a steady rhythm.
"Someone once told me that in the North, rain freezes the instant it touches the ground... because cold is all this land has ever known."
"Do you believe that?"
She tilted her head, laughing gently as she glanced at the man beside her.
Theodor, almost instinctively, mimicked her gesture—allowing the cool raindrops to gather in his open palm.
"I think I did—once," he said with a rueful smile.
Because this was the North—a place where even hearts turned to ice, just to spare themselves from sorrow, from pain, from the fear of enduring this land's merciless cold.
