CIAN
The evening sun caught the edges of the courtyard stones, turning them amber. I stood beside my mother on one of the garden benches, watching the main gate where Elder Moira would soon arrive. My mother's hands rested in her lap, fingers laced together in a way that looked peaceful but probably wasn't. The cast on her leg gleamed white against her dark dress.
It had mostly healed. But Thorne had to be dramatic about it.
"I'm happy everything turned out fine at the end."
Her voice carried that particular lightness people used when they were trying to convince themselves as much as anyone else. I glanced at her, taking in the faint bruises still visible along her jawline. Age did that, but she did not seem to remotely give a fuck, given the way she held herself.
"Right."
