Riven’s gaze lingered on the tablet.

He had never expected to see Isabelle. At first, he wasn’t even sure it was her but he recalled that this was the same dress she had been wearing when she rushed out earlier that morning.

On the screen, she crouched lightly, one hand gathering her skirt as though brushing against something unseen on the floor. Her movements were slow and almost languid. She trailed a finger in the air as if twirling a twig through water, and every so ...