EMMALINE
Raffa’s hand is firm on my elbow as he guides me back toward the palace.
I can barely feel my legs. Can barely feel anything except the crushing weight of terror pressing down on my chest.
Liam.
My baby.
My son.
Gone.
The word keeps echoing in my head, over and over, until I think I might go insane.
“Luna, please,” Raffa says gently. “You need to sit down. Let me get you inside.”
I shake my head. I can’t go inside. I can’t sit down. I can’t do anything except stand here and wait for news.
Wait for someone to tell me where my son is.
Wait for someone to bring him back.
My phone rings.
Alexander.
I answer so fast I nearly drop it. “Did you find him? Please tell me you found him—”
“Emma.” His voice is strained, tight. “I need you to listen to me. I’m going to put someo
