The mare picked her way down the slope toward the castle with careful steps, as if she understood the significance of this final approach. Below us, formal gardens spread in geometric patterns that spoke of centuries of careful cultivation, though something about their perfection suggested they maintained themselves through means that had nothing to do with gardeners and pruning shears.
Roses bloomed everywhere—climbing walls, bordering paths, creating living sculptures that should have been dormant in the October chill. Their perfume drifted up to meet us, so intense it made my head swim with remembered dreams. Dreams I'd been having for weeks now, filled with golden eyes and voices that called my name from shadows.
This place has been calling to me, I realized with a start that felt li
