Damien shook his head and started for the door that led out of the library. Others thought his faith was strong, but he knew better. They didn’t know how much he struggled with letting go of others.

Death was the ultimate separation. He couldn’t stop it. And when it happened, it tore him apart.

Not right now, he thought, running a hand through his hair as he left the library. I’m not going to dwell on what I can’t change. I don’t know the future. All I have is the present. And I’m going to be grateful for every moment.

26

Night after night the Dark Lady visited Selene in her dreams. And each morning she woke up in a cold sweat, her heart pounding. No matter how hard she ran or flew, she couldn’t escape the Dark Lady or lay hold of the light. She was trapped between both inside the dreamscape.

Selene lay in her bed and watched the morning light trickle in through the window on the other side of the room. The smell of baking bread drifted beneath her door and filled her room with a sweet aroma, making her stomach gurgle. The last few days had filled her eyes, ears, and nose with the most delectable senses: pine wreaths, savory smells from the kitchen, the bustling of the servants as they cleaned the entire castle, painted glass balls hanging from windowpanes so the sunlight could catch the colors and spread them throughout the castle. She smiled as a guard walked by her room, humming an unfamiliar tune.

Absolutely enchanting. And a welcome repose from her nightmares.

Selene slowly rose from her bed. She still wasn’t sure what this Festival of Light was, but it appeared to land on the same day as the Turn of Winter and the start of the new year. Given how much thought and care was going into the preparation of this festival, it looked like it was a highly regarded celebration.

Despite her dreams each night, Selene couldn’t help but catch the feverish excitement spreading around the castle and Nor Esen. And best of all, Damien was home to be a part of it.

Damien.

Selene paused behind the changing screens, her fingers curled around the simple tunic she wore for training. He had found her in the library last night and admitted he had missed her. And she had missed him.

And that kiss . . .

Even now her lips tingled from the remembered touch. He was strong and yet gentle at the same time. That thought sent a flutter of emotions through her body as she pulled her sparring tunic over her head and tied the front laces.

Then she paused, her hands still on the ties. What was this feeling growing inside of her? When he was gone, it felt like part of her was gone too. And when he was near, it was like a fire burned inside of her, brightening even further when they touched.