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The trio leapt from one stone paving stone to another, as if they were frogs navigating a maze of lily pads. In between each stone lay a thick mixture of muck and snow. Fortunately, the pathway was lit by a series of enclosed candle-like torch flames.
Steam rose from Pixley’s bald head as he wobbled and wavered on one small stone. While she waited for him to brave the next step, Fina took in her surroundings with a mixture of bittersweet sentiment and pleasure. When she and Connor had been children, they’d played hiding games in the winter garden. The gardens’ glass dome, invisible in the dark, must be to their left, packed with lush green plants interspersed with splotches of red camellias. Even from outside, she could smell that peculiar odour unique to winter gardens or conservator
