Kieran stood at the edge of the clearing, framed by two silver trees. The fading light carved the sharp lines of his face into angles of shadow and pallor. His gaze went from Layla to his mother, and his expression, already stormy, hardened into something unreadable.
"Kieran," Elowen greeted, her own voice smoothing into a pleasant, formal tone. All traces of the intimate confidante vanished. "I was just ensuring our guest hadn't become lost in the topiary. The heliotrope maze has been particularly tricksy this season."
"I'll escort her back," his tone left no room for discussion. His eyes pinned Layla. "Ms. Moreau. You wandered." It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.
Layla squared her shoulders, the spell of the garden and Elowen's unsettling insights breaking under the force of
