Lucian Moon had been riding between the Northern Kingdom and Aelindris every week since the field.
But this time was different because he decided River was coming home with him.
His fated mate was disappearing by increments and he was done watching.
He found her in the wild garden, the one behind the library, the one where the flowers grew without permission and the trees did whatever they wanted.
She was sitting on the stone ledge. Alone. Her knees were pulled up. Her arms were wrapped around them. Her white hair was loose, falling around her face in a curtain that was doing the job her composure couldn't: hiding the evidence. She was crying the way she always cried. Quiet. Stubborn. Fought against and lost.
Lucian didn't announce himself. He crossed the garden in four strides, sat beside her on the ledge, and pulled her into his arms.
