I changed my mind about the library.
Not because the library was wrong. The library was right in many ways, a good place for the stone to eventually live, a room built specifically to hold the things that mattered about where Sera and Aldric had come from. But as I sat in the garden the afternoon after reading Damien's letter, the stone warm in my closed hand from being carried, I understood that the library was where it would end up. It was not where it needed to go first.
The garden was where it needed to go first.
This garden, specifically. The one Caden had drawn on the back of a border report with a borrowed pen, the configuration of it arriving out of some part of him that had been waiting forty years for the right surface to work on. The one he had supervised the construction of
