The next moonrise, Nightclaw Estate was unusually quiet. The servants still went about their work, preparing meals, cleaning the chambers, and keeping the estate running as they always had, but the laughter and easy conversations that once filled the halls were gone. No one heard Brandon humming while he got ready in the moonrise, and even the servants seemed to lower their voices whenever they passed the royal wing.
Emma stood in the middle of the bedchamber and looked toward the half-empty closet. Brandon's clothes were still hanging exactly where he had left them. She walked over and reached for one of his shirts, running her fingers slowly over the soft fabric before bringing it close to her face.
His scent was faint now.
Almost gone.
She held the shirt for another moment before placing it back where she had found it. She closed the closet and rested her hand against the door.
"I can't do this anymore."
