Twelve years ago
The moonflower garden.
The morning was sweet and golden, sunlight slipping through the leaves like soft lace. Birds sang, and the air smelled of dew and spring. A boy of twelve stood at the edge of the garden, his eyes wide, his hair falling untamed across his forehead. It was André.
And before him stood a woman, tall and graceful, dressed in pale silk. Her hair was black as ink, her eyes a clear blue that seemed to hold the entire sky. She was bending over the moonflowers, her hands gentle as she brushed the leaves, her lips moving as though she were speaking to them. The boy smiled just watching her.
She was the late Duchess Odette Orvelien. His mother. The light of the chateau.
André tilted his head, curiosity dancing across his face. "Why do you love these flowers, mother?" he asked softly. "They never bloom. They look… sad."
