Sheets of paper covered part of the floor. Sketches. Paintings. Half-finished drawings leaned against the wall beside his easel. Some were rough outlines. Others were so detailed they looked alive.
None of them had been packed away.
Emma's eyes moved slowly across the chamber.
He hadn't slept.
The scent of chocolate coffee lingered heavily in the chamber, warm and rich. Beneath it sat the faint smell of cigar smoke, buried deep in the air like it had been there all through the moonfall.
Her throat tightened.
She walked toward the closet area slowly, guilt pressing harder with every step. She had ignored him the entire last moonfall while drowning in fear and anger, yet she still hadn't found the courage to tell him what was happening. Not yet. Not until she uncovered who was feeding information to their enemies.
Brandon stood in front of the mirror fastening the buttons on his shirt when she entered.
