Maeve

The castle was buzzing with activity. Dinner had been served buffet style, and everyone was congregating in the formal dining hall where the ball had taken place.

But I found myself in the library, which was quiet and empty, save for my dad.

He was standing in front of one of the windows, a dram of scotch in his hand. He looked meditative, but his brow was furrowed.

“Hey,” I said, closing the door behind me. “You wanted to talk to ...