Maeve

The gardens at the castle were very much changed with the season. Winter had yellowed and dried the leaves to a chilled crisp, and the garden was littered with foliage debris. It was cold, but not like the bitter, dry cold of Winter Forest. Here, the air still seemed thick with moisture, and the gray sky seemed more apt to rain than snow.

I wondered about the boys as I followed Troy, Keaton, and my dad into the sanctuary of the lower garden. The nanny Georgia ...