Sloane blinked, pulling herself from her thoughts as she took in the familiar courtyard. Every plant, every stone path, every ivy vine creeping along the wall, it was all the same. And yet, everything felt different. The air itself carried the weight of years gone wrong.
She exhaled softly. Things change. People even more so.
“Luna Blackthorn is back,” a voice called.
Mrs. Smith appeared at the doorway, smiling with the eager politeness of a housekeeper who had once been loyal, but no longer needed to be. She was Lyra’s mother. Her expression, however, shifted the instant she caught sight of the men behind Sloane. The warmth drained from her face, replaced by caution.
“Luna, what’s the meaning of this?”
Sloane turned, meeting the eyes of the five silent bodyguards who stoo
