Blackridge had changed since Aria lost the baby.
The castle that had once been filled with preparations for a celebration was now painfully quiet. The nursery remained untouched. Tiny clothes still lay folded inside drawers. The empty cradle stood beside the window, reminding everyone of what had been lost.
Aria had barely left her room.
She was alive, but she was weak. Her body had suffered badly during the pregnancy and birth. Some mornings she could barely sit up without help.
Deucalion stayed beside her whenever he could.
One evening, he sat near her bed while she slept. His mother stood in the doorway, watching him.
“We need to talk,” the Luna said.
Deucalion looked up. “About what?”
She entered slowly and closed the door. “About the future of Blackridge.”
His expression hard
