Rooftop in Golden Light

I'd like to say that I can see every building in the city up here, but I can't. The wind's blowing in my eyes enough to make them sting, and my hair, short but sharp, cuts at my cheeks. Still, the sight from up here is gorgeous.

"Julienne, come back inside."

I turn my head to watch Lise climb the last rung of the ladder onto the roof, but I don't say anything. She pulls her cape tighter around her tall frame either to keep out the cold or to keep it from whipping in the wind, I can't tell. Her blonde hair is pulled back so tightly into its bun that the wind can't even ruffle it.

"They all know?" I ask. It's barely a question. I turn back to the view of the city, watching the setting sun turn everything golden, watching the shadows rise and fall between buildings.

Lise comes to stand next to where I'm sitting, never one to be afraid of heights. "I think so," she replies quietly.

I shudder against the cold, my shoulders hunched.

"You have to come back in eventually."

I narrow my eyes, staring at the scar on my palm. "No one wants me in there, Lise. Not today."

Her boots shift. "I do, of course. And Mickaël."

"Mickaël just likes to have me around for gossip."

"The lady wounds me," comes Mickaël's voice, deep and quiet. I whirl towards the sound, finding him leaning against the chimney. I hate that he can still surprise me, even when I know how silently he can move.

"If you keep sneaking around like that you're bound to overhear people complaining about you," I snap at him.

"I'm used to it," he says, amused.

I shift my jaw and decide to keep quiet, listening to the wind blow past the rooftop.

"You'll come with me." It's a command. Lise is holding her hand out to me, her cape free, snapping violently in the wind. I stare at the hand she offers, her right, clad in a black glove. Black to match the rest of her outfit. I know what's underneath that glove: the matching scar to my own.

I clasp her hand and let her pull me upright. When I look into her face, I see that she's relieved, that she thought it would take more work to convince me. I glance over at Mickaël, and a smile twitches onto his face. Sometimes I wonder if he can read minds with those green eyes of his.

"I'm sorry, Lise, you'll have to go in without me," I say. Then, quickly enough to startle her, I take off, feet pounding against the rooftop, heading west into the setting sun: the blinding golden light.

I can't hear Mickaël running behind me, his footsteps are too light, but when I glance back he's there, keeping pace. And when I jump to the next building, he follows, leaving Lise all alone.

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