The morning before her birthday, Morwenna woke before the sun had even reached the horizon.
She lay in bed with Cinder curled at her feet, his warm, solid weight resting against her ankles. In the dim room, she watched the shadows on the ceiling slowly change from black to charcoal gray, then fade beneath the first pale light of dawn.
Her body had been restless for days, ever since Saoirse returned and filled her head with stories about the world beyond the wards. She kept thinking about swings that reached toward the sky, ice cream trucks with tinkling bells, and carousel horses she hadn't yet chosen.
But today felt different. It was the day before her birthday.
Tomorrow, she would be four.
She slipped out of bed, her feet pattering softly against the cold floorboards. Cinder lifted his head at once, his russet ears turning toward her.
"Not yet," she whispered, her voice rough with sleep. "Go back to sleep."
He lowered his head onto his paws, but his amber eyes remained open as he watched her move through the gray shadows of the room.
Morwenna went to the window and looked out at the garden. Everything was still beneath the weight of the early morning. Frost lingered in the deep shadows under the hedge, scattered across the dark earth like grains of salt.
The snowdrops were gone. Their white flowers had long since withered, leaving only brown, curled leaves against the soil. But other things were growing. Stubborn green shoots pushed through the earth near the hedge, plants she still didn't know the names of. She had been watching them for weeks, waiting to see what they would become.
She pressed her palm against the glass. It was bitterly cold.
Nothing happened.
She drew her hand back and turned it over, studying it in the weak light. Tomorrow, she would be four.
Then she returned to bed and lay quietly, listening to the ancient wood of the manor creak around her until the sun finally rose.
***
By the time breakfast was over, Morwenna had already claimed a high-backed chair in the entrance hall and pulled it close to the hearth.
Her legs swung back and forth as she sat with her hands folded in her lap, just as Jane had taught her. After a few moments, she unfolded them, only to fold them again. She simply couldn't sit still.
Cinder lay beside her chair, his head resting on his paws, his ears turning whenever the old house creaked.
Jane had told her that Viviane was coming today, not tomorrow. Morwenna had taken up her position in the hall and refused to leave for any reason.
When the flames in the hearth suddenly rose high and green, their light flashed across the stone floor. Viviane stepped out of the Floo, dressed in dark traveling robes that looked perfectly neat. Not a single strand of hair was out of place. She brushed a speck of ash from her sleeve before looking up, and her eyes immediately found Morwenna.
Morwenna was off her chair before she had time to think. She hurried across the hall and stopped just short of colliding with Viviane's legs.
"Vivi!"
Viviane crouched to meet her at eye level and rested both hands on her goddaughter's shoulders.
"You have grown taller, petite."
"I'm going to be four."
"I know. I was there last year." Viviane smiled, her expression softening. "You cried at your cake. You had purple frosting on your nose."
Morwenna instinctively touched her nose to check for any leftover sugar.
Viviane laughed, her voice ringing through the high-ceilinged hall.
"I was three," Morwenna explained seriously.
"And now you are going to be four."
"Yes."
Viviane pulled her into a quick, warm hug. Morwenna pressed her face against her godmother's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of floral perfume and clean linen. When she pulled away, Viviane was still holding her small hands.
"You aren't coming to London," Morwenna said quietly.
Viviane's expression remained calm, but her dark eyes softened.
"No, I can't. I have work to attend to."
"Saoirse said there will be other times."
"There will be." Viviane gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
Morwenna nodded. She had known this for weeks. Jane had explained it to her, and she had accepted the fact, even if she didn't like it.
"Will you write to me?"
"Of course. But not every day, mon trésor."
Morwenna nodded again. Then she slipped her hands free and caught Viviane's sleeve, tugging at the dark fabric.
"Come and see my seedling. It's almost open. Gran-père said maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after."
She led Viviane toward the greenhouse, talking all the way.
The seedling was still closed, its bud a tight green secret. Morwenna stood before the terracotta pot with both hands flat on the table, her face close to the stem. It had grown taller since yesterday, and the bud looked fuller. Its tip had turned pale, almost white.
"It's going to open soon."
Viviane stood behind her, studying the plant.
"What is it?"
"Something from Gran-père. He didn't tell me its name. He said I have to wait and see."
Morwenna reached out and lightly brushed the stem with her fingertip. The plant remained still, so she pulled her hand back.
"If it opens while I'm in London, I won't see it."
"You will see it when you come back."
"It won't be the same."
Viviane was quiet for a moment before answering.
"No. It won't be the same. But it will still be here, waiting for you."
Morwenna looked at the closed bud. She thought about the snowdrops that had bloomed and withered while she watched them. She had been there for every part of their lives. She had seen them open.
"I want to see it open."
"Then perhaps it will wait for you."
Morwenna looked up at her godmother. Viviane's face was calm, and her eyes were steady. Morwenna didn't know whether plants could wait for someone. She didn't know if they could make choices, like the magical seeds Lucien had told her about. He had said those seeds watched the world and chose when to wake.
She turned back to the seedling.
"Maybe," she said.
***
On the morning of her birthday, Morwenna woke before the sun again.
This time, she didn't bother staying in bed. She dressed herself in her green dress, the one that had been too large last year but now fit her perfectly. She tied her hair back with a silk ribbon. The knot sat a little crooked, but she pulled it tight anyway. Then she put on her blue trainers and tied the laces into bows that actually stayed in place.
Cinder watched her from the bed, his russet ears pointed forward.
"Today," she told him brightly. "I'm four today."
His tail thumped against the blankets.
Morwenna hurried downstairs, her trainers making soft sounds against the stone. The manor was still quiet. The portraits remained asleep, and the morning light filtering through the high windows was a dull gray. The entrance hall was empty, as was the kitchen.
She ran through the corridors until she reached the morning room.
Jane was already there, sitting at the table with a cup of tea. Her red hair hung loose around her shoulders, and her face still looked soft with sleep. She glanced up when Morwenna burst through the doorway.
"You are up early, ma chérie."
"I'm four."
Jane smiled. "You are."
Morwenna climbed onto the chair beside her mother, and Cinder followed, settling into a ball at her feet. She studied Jane's face, the fine lines around her green eyes and the gentle curve of her mouth.
"Mama, today I'm four."
Jane slipped an arm around her and drew her into a warm side hug.
"I know."
They stayed like that for a while as the light grew brighter and the manor slowly came to life around them. Then Morwenna heard footsteps on the stairs and voices echoing through the hall.
She was off the chair and running again.
***
Sylvaine arrived through the Floo at exactly ten o'clock.
Morwenna was waiting in the entrance hall with the gathered adults, her hand held securely in Jane's. She had been waiting for this visit, too. Sylvaine always came last, and she always arrived exactly when she said she would.
The green flames sank into glowing embers, and Sylvaine stepped out. She was small and straight-backed, her silver hair pinned into its usual sharp, immaculate bun. Her robes were dark and plain. She surveyed the hall, taking in the people gathered there, before settling her gaze on the child standing in the middle.
Then she crossed the stone floor, her boots making soft, measured sounds.
"Happy birthday," Sylvaine said.
Morwenna looked up at her.
"I'm four."
"Yes." Sylvaine didn't smile, but something in her eyes shifted. "I remember when you were two. You told me the serpent was sleeping."
"I told it to sleep."
"You did."
Sylvaine reached into her robes and brought out a small box made of dark, undecorated wood. She held it out to Morwenna, who accepted it with both hands. The box had a satisfying weight to it.
"This is for later, when you are older."
Morwenna looked at the box, then at Sylvaine. She carefully tucked it into her pouch beside the memory stone, the silver box, and the crystal sphere.
"Thank you."
Sylvaine gave a slight nod before stepping aside to join the others.
***
The birthday party was held in the Great Hall.
The floating lights had returned, the same golden ones from Morwenna's third birthday. They drifted beneath the high ceiling like glowing embers, casting a warm light over the long table, which had been covered with white cloth and set with polished silver. White and purple flowers filled low bowls along its length, their petals catching the light.
Morwenna sat between Jane and Celestine. Her plate held small portions of dumplings, rice, and noodles coated in dark sauce. She ate with her fingers, and for once, nobody told her to stop.
Saoirse was telling a story about the mountains. She described a storm that had appeared so suddenly that the monks had to drag her indoors before she froze solid. As she spoke, she acted out the whole thing with her arms spread wide, her short black hair becoming messier with every gesture.
Luelle laughed so hard that she threw her head back, while Raphaël watched with an amused smile.
Morwenna ate, listened, and watched the people around her.
Jane kept looking at her. Jack pretended to read a letter, though he kept glancing up, the white streak in his hair catching the light whenever he moved.
Aldric was discussing the greenhouse with Lucien. Seraphina had a book open beside her plate, while Celestine listened to Saoirse with her head tilted slightly to one side.
Elara sat between Jane and Raphaël, her expression calm as she watched Morwenna. Viviane laughed at something Luelle said, and Sylvaine observed everything with her hands folded neatly in front of her.
When Saoirse finally finished her story, the table erupted in applause. Morwenna clapped along, her small hands meeting with a cheerful sound. Her cheeks felt warm, and she couldn't stop smiling.
Then Tilly appeared with the cake.
It was round, covered in white frosting, with purple and silver flowers piped around the edges. Four candles stood on top, their flames steady and bright.
Tilly carried it carefully with both hands, his large ears trembling as he watched Morwenna's face. Once he had set the cake down in front of her, he looked at her expectantly.
"The little miss likes it?"
Morwenna studied the cake, taking in the flowers, the candles, and the way the light gleamed across the frosting.
"Yes."
Tilly made a small, pleased sound and stepped back.
They sang the old birthday song. The Evans family joined in with the French version, their voices weaving through the English words in a lovely harmony. Morwenna listened with her hands resting flat on the table, her gaze moving from one familiar face to another.
When the singing ended, she closed her eyes and pressed her hands against the wood.
Then she opened her eyes and blew out the candles.
The flames vanished, leaving thin trails of gray smoke curling into the air. For one heartbeat, the room fell silent. Then Saoirse let out a loud cheer, Luelle burst into laughter, and everyone began clapping.
Morwenna grinned from ear to ear.
***
That night, after everyone had finally gone to bed, Jane sat alone at her desk.
The fire had burned low, leaving the room dim and quiet. Her baby-blue journal lay open in front of her, its pages still blank.
She picked up her quill.
April 26th.
She is four.
She laughed at her cake. She ate dumplings with her fingers. She asked Viviane if the seedling would open while she was away. She told Sylvaine she was four.
She is going to London. She is going to see the world.
Jane set down her quill.
The fire crackled softly. Outside the window, a thin crescent moon hung low in the sky. The garden lay in darkness, and the green shoots she had been watching for weeks were hidden in the shadows.
She closed the journal and rested her hand on its cover.
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