Your words are always a warm blanket, comforting andshielding me from some of the problems at home. From my grief. Maybe it’s weird to be so connected to someone miles and decades away, but I like weird. And I like your presence in my life, even if it’s mostly in letters. You help keep the cold bite of fear away. To have you as my ally, my friend, it gives me courage. It gives me hope. Thank you.
With timeless affection,
Emma
P.S. What’s a Kardashian?
Dear Emma,
I’m up late thinking of you. I wonder if you’re staring at this same silver moon. Maybe I’m silly, but I like to think that we sleep under the same stars. It makes me feel like we are closer. I wrote a song about you today. It’s about the crazy situation we are in. Maybe one day you’ll hear it.
Anyway, I got good information from Billy on my trip. I’ll share that with you when I see you again. My sisters are still nosy and meddling in my business all the time. Imani’s psychic ability is really annoying. Lately, she keeps making these comments that make me think she might know that I’m writing to you. If so, I sure hope she doesn’t snitch to Jayla or Big-Mama. The last thing I need is those two mad. But Imani… she’s helpful, and having a real psychic on our side couldn’t hurt. Maybe I’ll talk to her about our mission… I don’t know. I gotta think on that more.
Charles tried to heal my arm again today. I wish I had his gift. If I could, I would go to the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia… most people here call it CHOP. I’d heal every sick kid inside. I’d take on their pain in an instant and send them home to their families smiling. I’d heal all the grief and pain inside you, too. You’ve faced so much loss, worked so hard, not just in the circus, but in everything you do, and you carry it with such charm. I think that’s special. It makes you shine like a star.
Remember, you’re not alone in this fight with grief or the battle to save the future. Together, we are stronger than any curse. And as much as I wish I was there holding your hand, know that even when I’m not, my spirit is always by your side.
With hopeless devotion,
Malcolm
P.S. The Kardashians are like the royal family of reality TV, but with more drama and better lighting.
P.P.S. Meet me the day after tomorrow. We can discuss what we’ve learned and plot our next move. Besides, I can’t wait to see you again. The time and place are on the card inside the envelope. See you soon, Star.
I pace the floor in my room, my mind on Malcolm’s last letter. His desire to help sick kids makes me like him even more. Plus, I doubt someone with such a heart for helping others would have the desire to kill me. But if he tries, well, then he’ll see that despite what I said before, I’m not Queen Guinevere, or any frail royal. I’ve trained for battle. Like a knight. My sword is deadly.
We’re cursed. And I hate it. Because I don’t want to hurt Malcolm, and I doubt he wants to hurt me. But the tug of the curse could force us to do things that aren’t in our nature; I feel it when we are together. That violent pull. My lips pout as I hold his words to my chest. My heart beats with concern and fear for the future as I give the curl of his writing one last glance before tossing his letter into the fireplace. It darkens and twists in the blue flames. I settle at my desk to write him back.
Dear Malcolm,
I’m excited to see you at the diner tomorrow. You speak of standing beside me in spirit, but you are so much more present than you realize. Your words are a constant companion, a light against the darkness that otherwise would swallow me. You give me strength when I have none left. You’ve touched my heart and have even made me laugh from years and miles away.
You’re right. We are warriors. Together, we will beat this, and when the Tether’s gone… all that will remain is freedom. True joy. And peace. Until I can thank you in person, accept my promise and my vow: We shall conquer the Tether together.Until we unravel the curse’s web, let’s hold fast to our new tether—the one that binds us as allies and friends, not the one that destroys our fates. In your letters, I find joy, Malcolm. I find hope. Thank you.
With timeless affection,
Emma aka Star
My body is a live wire surging with danger and excitement when I think about meeting Malcolm today. I pace in the living room, eager to escape the house. The warm morning light filtering through the sheer living room curtains kisses my skin and casts a soft glow on the high-waisted emerald skirt and fitted blouse that squeezes my curves. I squirm in discomfort, tugging at the lace trim of my skirt in a futile attempt to loosen its grip on my hips, but no amount of adjusting eases my tension as the grandfather clock chimes.
“Bestie, why do you look like you’re about to unravel?”
Startled, I look over at Ariella. She teases me from her perch on the velvet chaise, her yellow silk dress cascading around her like liquid sunshine.
“Ari.” I force a smile. I gaze at the walls lined with gold-accented cream wallpaper and the plush velvet sofas in deep sapphire blue arranged around the grand fireplace, as though they might provide me with a good response. I glance upward, but the chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, with crystals shining like suspended stars, have no answers either.
“I’m… I’m just feeling… trapped in my life.” I look away, turning my gaze to the window. I roll my eyes at the sight of Gran’s beautiful security guards, clad in black, with their shimmery brown skin, full afros, and big guns, who patrol the grounds outside.
“We’re both caged.” Ariella giggles. “With Papa always away handling business… and my mom being… well, Mom. Living and shopping in Paris instead of visiting me. I’m always home alone with my governess and the servants, hoping that my best friend will call. The loneliness… it’s murder. Honestly. It’s killing me slowly.” She motions to the glamour surrounding us. “And Papa is no decorator. So the prison I rot in is far less spectacular than yours.”
“Really?” I turn to look at her. “At least you can come and go more freely. And your mom calls every day.”
She crinkles her thin upturned nose as if some strange stink has assailed her nostrils. “Your mom ishere,” she murmurs, rising to stand beside me at the window. “You have family that’s close enough totouch. Do you know what a treasure that is? I’d kill for my family. But they treat me like a pretty little doll to be kept in the house for safety. No… worse. A pawn.” She pouts her full lips.
Ari’s words sting. My struggles are invisible to her. I can’t tell her about the curse, about Gran’s battle training that feels like abuse. I want to pour my heart out, but there are some family secrets that she’d never understand. And I fear that her knowing any of them would land her in the angry crosshairs of my grandmother. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
I sigh, knowing that Ariella’s loneliness is real. Despite all the material gifts Ariella’s mother sends, they’re no substitute for her mom’s presence. A pang of guilt hits me. My secrets and hidden truths make me distant sometimes too. “You are loved,” I tell her. “Valued.”
