The sun dappled through the garden in Favalon, where I was pruning roses, my white dress swaying in the breeze. Out of nowhere, the comments flickered across my vision.
[Dominic's tearing Aurora apart…]
[All for Clara! Aurora had it coming for messing with her.]
[Heard her voice is gone for good—she'll never speak again.]
I paused, then calmly set down the shears and sank into a wicker chair, cradling a cup of tea. The breeze carried the scent of flowers, and I gazed at the rolling hills. The comments flared again, then faded to nothing.
I pushed open the villa's windows, letting sunlight flood the wooden floors, warming them to a golden glow. Barefoot, I stepped outside to water the roses I'd planted.
[No way Clara's really staying gone, right?]
[Dominic's a mess—drinking all day,
