The night air was cool, scented with lavender and distant woodsmoke as the flicker of lanterns illuminated the garden paths. Isadora stood beneath the sprawling branches of an old oak, her arms folded tightly across her chest as Lucien's footsteps approached behind her.
He stopped a few paces away, tension heavy in the space between them.
"Where are you going, Isadora?" Lucien's voice was low, almost a growl, but beneath it was something else. Worry.
She turned slowly, meeting his gaze. His eyes, always storm-grey, now seemed darker, with shadows she hadn't seen before.
"You overheard," she said softly, not as a question.
Lucien gave a small nod. "Enough to know you're hiding something dangerous. And I want to know everything, Isadora. No more secrets."
Isadora looked down at the bracelet around her wrist. Its stone shimmered faintly, as though it, too, had been waiting for this moment.
She drew a breath, steadying herself.
