Mary Ann
Kylian’s words lingered like a bruise I could not stop pressing. He did return last night. He just didn’t come to see you. I kept my face calm as I walked away from the training fields, but inside, the hurt twisted sharp and deep. Modric had come home and chosen the borders again. He had slept under the same roof and still avoided me like I carried some sickness. I refused to let anyone see how much it stung. Not the servants, not the elders, and certainly not myself if I could help it.
Back in the Luna Wing, I poured every ounce of that pain into finishing the Unity Festival proposal. I wrote carefully, outlining schedules, budgets, safety measures, and ways to involve both Ironclaw and Mooncrest families. Healing through shared laughter and food felt right. By late afternoon,
