Aria sat by the large window in the reading room, her fingers absentmindedly trailing the edge of her teacup. She hadn’t touched it—tea had long since lost its flavor, much like everything else in her world lately. The silence in the room was heavy, and though she was alone, she felt watched—by memories, by guilt, by the ghost of what could’ve been.

A soft knock broke the silence.

Before she could respond, the door creaked open and Lucien’s mother, Lady Luna D'ARGON, stepped in.

“Aria,” she said gently, her voice warm and regal as always. “May I?”

Aria stood, startled. “Of course. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I asked...