Three nights into Frostholm, and I still could not sleep past two in the morning.
It wasn't the room. The room was perfect. The bed was the softest I'd ever slept in. The temperature was exactly right. No sounds from Declan coming in late, no tension seeping through the walls.
It was me.
My body did not know how to rest when there was nothing to brace against.
Luna was the same. She paced in my mind, restless and alert, scanning for threats that weren't there.
We're safe, I kept telling her. Nothing is coming.
She did not quite believe it. Neither did I.
So at two fifteen on my third night in Frostholm, I gave up on sleep, pulled on clothes, and went wandering.
The castle at night was a different place. Quieter. Shadows collecting in the corners of the wide hallways, the stone wall
