These days the fortress looked very much like a medieval castle without the moat. It was simple in design—basically a large rectangular courtyard enclosed by thick, twenty-foot-high stone walls. There were no turrets or spires. No ornate, grand battlements. The intent was to make it blend into the forest, and it succeeded. Unless you knew it was there, you wouldn’t know it was there.

But like all good castles, this one had more than its share of secrets.

Atop the eastern wall, high above the courtyard, Coralis observed the woman and bear and allowed a rare brief smile to crease his timeworn face. “Worse than two old crones,” he muttered to himself.

Gretchen squinted toward the sunrise, where the outline of Coralis made a striking image, nested in rays of sunshine. “Guten Morgen, Coralis. Will you be joining me for breakfast?” Her voice rose slightly, betraying a sense of hope. It had been too long since he had joined her for any meal, choosing instead to become more and more reclusive.

With a dismissive wave and a frown she couldn’t see against the sunlight, the old man turned and passed from sight.

“Ja, same old story.” Gretchen sighed. “What’s a girl to do for company around here? Perhaps I should invite Sophia back for seconds.” She shook her head sadly before heading toward the garden to begin the day’s work.

As she sang and hummed songs from her childhood, her back bent low over the late-spring crops, Coralis returned to peer over the edge. From his hidden observation post, he watched his ever-faithful servant. Servant? Well … not really. She was the closest thing he’d had to a friend for over a century—since he had chosen the reclusive life of a hermit.

Her long, graying hair was pulled back and gathered at her neck. She’d accented her white blouse with a pink-and-aqua scarf. She reached into one of the many pockets of her loose-fitting tan cargo pants and pulled out a folded tissue containing a small stash of seeds.

He admired how skillfully she worked the soil, tending herbs and vegetables with a delicate touch. Not for the first time, he wondered how someone could work for hours in a garden and finish as fresh and clean as the minute she started.