“Ah,” he said, picking up a few and rolling them through his fingers. “Mushrooms from out back.”
“A bit of an odd breakfast, don’t you think?”
He tossed them back into the bowl. “It’s what my fiancée and I used to do when we stayed here.” His lips curled into a nostalgic smile. “Everyone always admired the roses, but not her. She loved the fungi.”
“How quirky.”
“She’s the best . . .” His smile faltered. “Wasthe best.”
She understood the hollow feeling of loss. Her gaze fell to the floor, and she whispered the only thing she could think of to say, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“You know”—Gregory snapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth—“I’ve always hated when people say that.” His next words had a bite to them. “I heard it constantly when she first disappeared. No one has anything better to offer. It loses all meaning until it becomes this hollow, almost condescending statement. If you’re sorry, tell me what for, or better yet, don’t say anything at all.”
Luna corrected herself, “I’m sorry for our loss. That I don’t get to share the experience of knowing her.”
“Better,” Gregory said, his eyes brightening a touch. “Sorry about earlier. I’ll watch my face better.” He chuckled and added, “Only glares and dirty looks from here on out.”
The forced laughter she gave cut like a blade up her throat, but she tried to ignore the feeling. Stepping closer, her fingers brushed against the cool rim of the bowl. “Are these any good, or are we gambling with our lives?” Her tone was light, despite the heaviness that still tugged at her.
“Amazing,” he said. As if to prove it, Gregory stuffed a handful of mushrooms into his mouth. “Want some?”
“Why not?” She grabbed one from the bowl and brought it to her lips. Tan in colour and no bigger than her pinky finger, it offered a subtle sweetness that mellowed the earthy flavour, more pleasant than she expected.
Winta’s voice rang out from the kitchen, calling them for breakfast. Gregory scooped up the bowl and made his way towards the dining room, with Luna following at a slower pace.
A white runner stretched across the length of the walnut-coloured table. As Luna took her seat across from Gregory, her fingers drifted along the fabric, smooth and faintly textured, as if freshly pressed. A centrepiece stood in the middle, its roses releasing a delicate scent. The soft pink petals were carefully arranged,perhaps a little too perfectly, and bloomed from a vase woven entirely from dried flowers.
Winta took her place at the head of the table. “A bath and some rest really does wonders for a person,” she remarked with perfect posture. Her smug smile made it hard to tell if she was teasing or mocking. “You wear my things almost as well as I do.”
Uncertain how to respond, Luna replied, “Um . . . thank you?”
“Behave yourself, Winta,” Gregory warned. “We don’t want to scare off our new friend.”
“What could you possibly mean?” Winta fanned her hand, feigning innocence. “Do you honestly think anyone looks better in my clothes than I do? I’mperfection, but she’s a close second. It’s a compliment of the highest regard.”
A soft clatter of wheels and porcelain signaled the arrival of a servant, who began placing plates at each setting. Conversation dipped naturally, attention shifting to the morning’s meal. Luna glanced down at the food but found her appetite had already begun to fade.
“Oh great, more mushrooms.”
Damien’s voice cut through the quiet as he rounded the corner, the sarcasm unmistakable. Luna looked up, her eyes following him as he entered, wondering where he’d slipped off to.
“Don’t tell me you still hate mushrooms,” Gregory taunted with a grin.
How amusing!Damien, her brave shadow man, was a fussy eater? She would’ve never guessed.
He sighed and slumped into the chair beside her. “You would, too, if Knox had stuffed one with pebbles for you.”
Luna snorted, a soft smile stretching across her lips.
Damien’s eyes snapped to hers, his voice low and brushed with warmth as he murmured, “I’d gladly eat a mountain of stones if it kept those dimples on your face.”
Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and her hand rose instinctively to cover them. That she could still smile surprised her, given everything she’d been through.
Luna took a sip of tea, then stood. Damien’s gaze lingered on her untouched plate, and for a moment, she braced for him to say something, but thankfully, he didn’t. Instead, he stood from his seat and extended a hand towards her. “Care to join me for a walk outside?”
Still chewing a mouthful of mushrooms, Gregory chimed in as though Damien had been speaking to him. “You two go ahead. I’ll catch up later.”
Winta dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin. “I’ll pass as well,” she said smoothly. “I should find my husband. He’ll need someone to nurse that hangover of his.”
