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Tears stung her eyes. She swallowed hard and blinked them away. “How can I believe he chose me of his own accord?”

Her father’s eyes crinkled with a hint of a smile. “I think you should allow him the chance to prove it. Use that brilliant mind of yours to see what is right in front of you.”

Papa rose and crossed the room, opening one of the terrace doors and standing aside.

Gwen frowned, peering past him into the dark. The sky beyond was a sweep of velvet black, twinkling with distant stars. Without a moon to cast its silver glow, the night appeared especially deep, profoundly still.

Her father tilted his head toward the doorway in a silent invitation.

She hesitated. Her hands clenched, then unclenched at her sides. She wanted to see Aidan. And she did not. Her heart wavered between longing and dread.

Several moments passed.

“Go to him, Gwendolyn,” her father urged gently.

With a sigh that was more resignation than agreement, she rose and moved across the room. She paused in the doorway, casting her gaze down to her slippers, seeking strength.

“You will never do anything in this world without courage,” her father said, his voice low and firm. “It is the greatest quality of the mind, next to honor.”

She glanced back at him, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “You are not such a terrible scholar after all, Papa. Quoting Aristotle at such a moment.”

“There is always time for Aristotle,” he replied in a falsetto that mimicked her mother’s tone so precisely that Gwen gave a startled laugh, even through her nervousness. It was an echo of the past, one that warmed her heart and gave her strength.

With a deep breath, she stepped onto the terrace.

The door shut quietly behind her.

She was alone.

Looking about, she found no sign of Aidan. The terrace stretched out before her, washed in the soft hush of night.

Then she saw it.

Down at the far end of the terrace, near the very place where she had first encountered Aidan, hung a softly glowing orb. A lantern. It swung gently from the eaves of the house, lit from within, casting a serene golden light.

Gwen took a step closer.

The lantern was round, delicate, and unmistakably fashioned in the likeness of the moon. Along the balustrade, dozens of candles flickered, mimicking the scatter of stars across the heavens.

And suddenly, she understood.

The entire terrace had been transformed into a reflection of the night they first met.

She raised her hands to her mouth, emotion breaking through her chest in a soft, stifled sob. The beauty of it, the thoughtfulness, it reached a place within her that had been locked in sorrow.

Then, a voice carried across the still night air. Low and steady.

“She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow’d to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.”