The dinner table was set with care—roasted meats steaming on silver platters, vegetables glistening in garlic and herbs, rolls stacked so high they defied gravity, and the sweet smell of cinnamon-honey glaze from Lila's famous apple tarts.
It was warm. It was home. And for the first time in weeks, Opal almost forgot there was a monster out there who wanted to tear it all down.
Luna Lila swept through the dining room in her usual soft, effortless grace. Her curls were pulled back in a braid threaded with tiny white flowers, and her sleeves were rolled as she carried a fresh pitcher of cider to the table. As soon as Opal stepped inside, Lila beamed and pulled her into a long, firm hug.
"There's my girl," she said against Opal's hair, then pulled back and looked her over with a keen, motherly eye. "You're too pale. And too thin."
Opal managed a tired smile. "You sound like Seraphina."
"She must listen well."
From behind her, Ash groaned. "She did. Believe me."
