After her last time with the duke for the time being, Valentina couldn't sleep, she still felt far too agitated. She slipped into a silk night robe and slipped out into the palace garden. The moon was high in the sky, its silvery light making the artfully trimmed hedges look like frozen ripples in Essence.

"A wonderful night for one last walk," Vyxara murmured in her head. "Though I have to admit, his way of saying goodbye was... interesting."

"He really made an effort," whispered Valentina as she wandered along one of the winding paths. The late summer air was still warm, filled with the beautiful scent of roses.

"Oh yes," Vyxara purred amusedly. "Our mighty duke, trying to show emotion. He suddenly seems remarkably human when he's not in control for once, doesn't he?"

"The duchess was right," Valentina said thoughtfully. "He really is... helpless when it comes to real feelings."

"People are often at their cruelest when they are afraid," philosophized Vyxara. "There are far more things likely to frighten a human than there are to crush him. You suffer far more often in imagination than in reality. And he really was afraid of losing you. That doesn't make his actions any better, but... more understandable, perhaps?"

Valentina sat down on a stone bench at the edge of a small fountain. The rippling water glistened in the moonlight. "I understand now why the duchess was so... understanding. She knows him better than anyone. She will have suffered often enough."

"She is a remarkable woman," Vyxara agreed. "Smart enough to understand that sometimes shared power is more than absolute control."

"I'm not the same," Valentina said quietly now. "Not the same person I was when I arrived here, just as the one who arrived was not the same one who left for Bridgewater a year ago."

"Of course," Vyxara confirmed. "You have grown. In the challenges, in the pain, in the joys. You've learned a lot in Bridgewater. Here you have learned how manifold power really is."

"What do you mean?"

"That power has many faces," Vyxara replied. "The duke's obvious power, the duchess's subtle power, your own growing power, both obvious and subtle... they are different, but equally important."

"When I came here, I thought I knew what I wanted," she continued. "Power, influence, opportunities to help my family. But now..."

"Now you have all that and you know that it's still a little bit more complicated than you thought," Vyxara finished her thought. "That power changes you. That it has a price."

"A high price."

"But was it too high?" Vyxara's voice sounded unusually gentle. "Do you regret anything?"

Valentina thought for a long time as she listened to the splashing of the fountain. "No," she finally said. "It hurt, yes. The night of my birthday... I'll never forget it. But it also opened my eyes."

A cat scurried across the path, its yellow eyes glowing in the moonlight. For a moment, it reminded Valentina of the other cat that had disturbed her summoning of Vyxara all this time ago.

"You haven't just changed," Vyxara said thoughtfully. "You've evolved. From a girl who dreamed of power to a woman who understands how to use it."

"And how to live with the consequences," Valentina added quietly.

She got up and continued walking through the garden. The paved path led her to a crossroads. To the left was the chestnut tree under which she had sat at the garden party with Lorenzo.

"Do you want to go there?" Vyxara asked gently.

Valentina hesitated. "I don't know if I want to open old wounds..."

"It's your last night here. Sometimes you have to close the circle in order to move on."

"You're right," she said quietly. "Let's go to the chestnut tree. Maybe the melancholy will go away once I've tasted it to the bottom of the cup."

As Valentina approached the chestnut tree, she saw a figure in the moonlight. It was Lorenzo. He was sitting on the stone bench with his head back, gazing at the stars through the canopy of leaves.

"Ah," whispered Vyxara with gentle amusement. "This must be fate."

Lorenzo only noticed her when she was only a few steps away. He jumped up, his movements uncharacteristically hasty. "Valentina! I... I didn't mean to..."

"It's all right," she said quietly. "It's your favorite place. Of course you're here."

"I should go," Lorenzo said stiffly. But he didn't move.

"Yes," whispered Valentina. "You should." She stopped before him.

"Oh, you two," Vyxara murmured with unusual gentleness. "Just do it. Just this once."

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They stood opposite each other, caught in a moment of possibility. Lorenzo's face showed a whole spectrum of suppressed emotions.

"You know," he finally said, his voice careful, "I've imagined a thousand times what I'd say to you if I met you alone again. Big speeches. Desperate confessions. But now..."

"Now words feel useless," Valentina finished his sentence.

He laughed softly, a broken sound. "Yes. Useless." His hand lifted as if to touch her face, but sank back down. "Suddenly I understand Hazel. I will marry the woman my father chooses for me."

"Innogen is my best friend," Valentina said softly. "She's wonderful."

"Yes, I'm sure she is." Lorenzo smiled weakly. "But she's not you."

The moment between them stretched out, loaded with unspoken words. A breeze rained chestnut blossoms down on them.

"We shouldn't," whispered Valentina. But she took a step closer.

"I know." His voice was barely audible. "I know."

"Sometimes," whispered Vyxara, "the heart needs a proper farewell. To find peace."

Lorenzo's hand touched her cheek, his fingers trembling slightly. "Maybe just this one moment," he murmured. "A single moment in which the world is different. In which we..."

She kissed him. Gentle, tender, full of melancholy. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She tasted wine on his lips, the sweetness of ripe grapes and the bitterness of tannins.

The world around them blurred, became unimportant. There was only the two of them, the moonlight, the stars and the falling petals. He brushed off her robe. His touch was different from his father's – less demanding, less controlled and full of longing.

They sank into the soft grass under the tree. Red chestnut blossoms tangled in Valentina's hair as Lorenzo laid her on her back. His lips explored her with the reverence of a man who knows he will never get this chance again.

Valentina impatiently pulled at his clothes. She wanted to feel him, wanted to experience this one perfect moment with all her senses. When they were finally naked, Lorenzo paused, tears glittering in his eyes.

"I love you," he whispered.

She pulled him down to her and sealed his mouth with a kiss. No more words. Words would only hurt.

As she took him in, she sobbed softly, seeing the blurred moon through the leaves of the chestnut tree. And there, in this moment, when they were one, it felt as if they were made for each other. Maybe they were in another world. A world in which they were simply Lorenzo and Valentina, not the duke's son and his father's mistress.

They moved in an ideal rhythm, as if they had done nothing else all their lives, as familiar and attuned to each other as they had been in Weaving. The moon shone down on them through the branches, weaving his own silver patterns on their bodies, while the falling blossoms of the chestnut tree covered them, a living shroud for this impossible love.

Valentina lost herself in the moment, in Lorenzo's touch, in the impossible perfection of it all. She knew she would carry it in her heart forever – not as a regret or remorse, but as a precious memory of something that could have been.

When they reached the peak together, it was like a release. They held on to each other as if they could stop time this way, preserving this one flawless moment forever.

Finally, they separated from each other. They exchanged no words as they got dressed again. What could they have said? Any words would have been too small for what they had just shared.

Lorenzo leaned towards her one last time and kissed her gently on the forehead. Then he turned and left without looking back. His footsteps faded into the night.

Valentina stayed for a moment, her eyes closed. A quiet tear ran down her cheek.

"That wasn't a farewell," Vyxara said gently. "It was a gift you gave each other. A perfect memory that no one can ever take away from you."

"I know," whispered Valentina. She opened her eyes and smiled faintly. As she walked through the garden back to her chambers, she felt a strange calm within her. The circle had closed and the pattern had been completed. She was ready for what lay ahead.

~

The morning of their departure came with a fine drizzle that turned the stones of Dusktown a dark grey. Jenny was in Valentina's rooms before sunrise to help her pack.

Valentina looked thoughtfully at the luggage piling up. How was it all supposed to fit into her tiny attic room in Bridgewater? All of Master Silkhand's many different dresses for all walks of life, including several in the duke's favorite lavender grey. Lots of books, precious Essence Weaving instruments and her medical instruments. All the jewelry the duke had given her.

"You'll have to sell some of it anyway to finance your studies," Vyxara remarked casually, "if you don't want to accept the offer to work at Violet Delights."

Valentina felt a surprising pang at the thought. The idea of selling these gifts...

"Ah," Vyxara purred contentedly, "you see? The duke knows exactly what he's doing. He's got you used to a certain lifestyle."

Yes, he probably had, Valentina thought a little gloomily.

Jenny's mother came with a basket full of provisions for the journey – fresh bread, dried fruit, even a small cake. "So you don't go hungry on the way, my lady," she said with moist eyes. "We will miss you very much."

"I'll miss you too." Valentina first hugged Jenny, then her mother. She had grown fond of both of them over the last few months. "But maybe we'll see each other again next year. I'll ask the duke to take you along too, if you want. Next summer, to the parliament."

The official farewell took place in the courtyard. The duchess was the first to bid her goodbye, her posture immaculate as always.

"My dear Valentina." She bowed her head elegantly. "I'll see you next summer." A brief smile flitted across her face. "Take care of yourself."

Lady Celestine stepped forward and kissed Valentina on both cheeks. "Write to me," she whispered, "and come back to us. All of us will miss you."

The duke stood next to his wife, his tall figure familiar and imposing. He took Valentina's hand and kissed it, as always a touch too long to be formal.

"I expect you to be even more extraordinary when we meet again," he said, his voice warm. His fingers briefly squeezed hers – a final private gesture.

As Valentina climbed into the carriage, she felt something shift inside her. She wasn't leaving Dusktown because she had to, but out of choice. And she could return.

"We've really experienced a lot here," Vyxara murmured contentedly as the carriage rolled through the streets of Dusktown.

"Yes," thought Valentina as she watched the Moon Tower disappear into the morning mist. "We really did."

She thought of Innogen and Crispin, who were waiting for her in Bridgewater. She was already looking forward to holding them in her arms again. But she also thought of the challenges that lay ahead. Of the Illuminator who would haunt the university, if Master Lucian's sources were right. She would have to remain on her guard.

"You're ready for this," Vyxara said gently. "Look how far you've come. From a farmer's daughter to a student of Essence Weaving, to a duke's mistress, to a future lady-in-waiting. You've learned not only how to gain power, but how to keep it and build on it. We can handle the Illumination if we're smart and careful enough."

The carriage reached the city gate. Valentina leaned back into the soft cushions – just one of the many luxuries she'd leave behind. She had become a woman who knew that dreams had a price – and who was prepared to pay it.

"Goodybe, Dusktown," she whispered as the city finally disappeared behind the horizon.

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