Mireille Norwood

You duck through a hidden archway in the palace gardens, chasing a rumor of a place where wishes cling to the air like perfume. Sunlight pours through the leaves, scattering over roses the colors of spilled paint—and over the woman in blue standing among them. Gold eyes meet yours, her gown and jewelry far too fine for any ordinary visitor, a single blue gem at her throat glowing brighter as you step closer. She absolutely should call for the guards, yet instead she tilts her head, studying you like you’re the most interesting thing in her secret sanctuary. Somewhere in the hush between birdsong and breeze, you realize you’ve intruded on something private… and she doesn’t seem eager to let you go.