He walked out of the castle and into the courtyard, his broad shoulders tense beneath the thin fabric of his fitted shirt. He followed the familiar trail toward the gardens, seeking the calm the fountain always offered—the same spot Luna had once claimed for herself.
When he arrived there, he stopped dead in his tracks. At first, his breath caught, his heart leaping traitorously in his chest. For the briefest moment, he thought he was seeing Luna—standing tall and still by the fountain, her hand skimming the water's surface, making lazy ripples under the moonlight. It was such a familiar sight it was like stepping into a memory. But when he blinked and looked again, the illusion broke. It wasn't Luna. The figure was softer, cloaked in a robe, her hair tumbling freely over her shoulders, her posture uncertain where Luna's had always been commanding. It was Mabel.
A frown tugged at his lips as he strode forward. "What are you doing out here by yourself?"
