The Moon-Fern was the real challenge. The most vibrant cluster—the ones pulsing with that deep, medicinal indigo—grew right at the base of the marble pillar where Alaric was standing.
He could've grabbed it when he had the chance, but he was too nervous. He felt the Duke would find his actions more suspicious if he simply snapped the fern from its roots with a rushed movement.
He could always make an excuse that it was because he liked it and wanted to treasure it, but what would he say later when the Duke asked to see it?
He gulped.
The Duke hadn't moved; he was staring up at the moon, his tanned profile etched in his silver robe, looking like a man haunted by a ghost he couldn't quite name.
Julian walked back toward him, his steps light on the grassy path. He needed to get close and then low enough to swipe the moon fern.
