Damon
The garden was nearly silent, save for the wind teasing the leaves and the faint trickle of water from the marble fountain. I spotted her by the moon lilies—alone, her arms crossed over her chest, head tilted back like she was searching the stars for answers I hadn’t given her.
She didn’t turn when I approached, her focus set on the sky.
The gravel beneath my boots crunched too loudly I was worried I would scare her as I stopped a few feet away. Close enough to see how tense her shoulders were. How her jaw was clenched.
“I thought I’d find you here,” I said quietly.
She didn’t seem to hear me.
My voice sounded useless even to me. Words didn’t fix things. Not anymore. Not after the Council. Not after Isabella. Not after I let silence poison what had once been the safest spa
