After opening the flap with trembling hands, I dug deep to the bottom, past the odds and ends I’d brought with me from Lydel. At the bottom, my fingers reached the small leather pouch I’d hidden there months ago. I tugged it out and laid it on my lap, brushing my fingertip across the scuffed, soft leather surface. Undoing the simple knot, I slowly removed one item after another, placing them on the blanket beside me.
A necklace with a blue stone pendant that caught the light in a way that made it dance, a delicate chain that had never tangled, no matter where I stuffed it or how much I wore it. Fae-made, I’d bet. He’d bought it for me at a village fair during one of the times we’d snuck out from the fortress in our finest to walk through the market and dance until the stars faded from the sky. I could still picture him presenting it to me with a flourish, the laughter in his warm eyes as he’d teased me about my pink-stained cheeks. I hadn’t cared then. Those playful moments were more precious than anything, even more than the pendant I’d always worn after he’d secured it around my neck.
I removed it as his funeral pyre burned and stuffed it inside my pocket, then added it to the things he’d given me, packing them away forever.
Looking at it now reminded me of him blushing like a fool when he told me how it gleamed against my skin. How he’d traced his fingertip across it. How sweet his kiss had tasted as he’d slipped his hand around to the back of my waist and tugged me near. He’d kissed the tip of my nose and made me dance with him along with the villagers.
It hurt to see the pendant, but not as much as when I’dstuffed it in with the other things, hiding it from view.
And that was yet another betrayal.
I carefully picked up the worn book of poems, its edges softened from all the times he’d opened it. Kinart had adored these poems. Whenever we had a moment of peace, he’d gather me close, his breath warm against my cheek as I sat on his lap with my back to his chest. He’d read them aloud, his voice full of gentle inflections and quiet passion.
I’d enjoyed his enthusiasm more than the words themselves, though I’d pretended otherwise for his sake, letting him believe that I was as captivated by the lines as him.
Yet another betrayal, one I’d stabbed out with while he was still alive.
I traced my fingers across the cover, the worn fabric feeling like an old friend. Opening the front, I swallowed hard when the lavender flower I’d pressed between the pages as a memory of the first time we were together slipped out, falling on my lap. Lifting it by the stem, I spun it while letting my mind fall back.
I could still feel the warmth of the sun on my face, the soft rustling of the meadow grass as we’d laid together after, talking about everything and nothing, before he’d threaded this flower into my hair with a smile that reached deep into my heart and anchored itself there forever.
We were sixteen and maybe too young for what we did, but it had been wonderful. Virgins, we'd bumbled around, finding a way to do it. It wasn't anywhere close to perfect, but that time had meant everything to me.
Kinart had warmed me from the inside out, but he'd never ignited my fire in the way one simple kiss from Merrick had.And thinking that, realizing that, was an even worse betrayal than allowing it to happen.
There was only one more thing inside the sack, but I couldn’t bear to touch it. Not yet. Maybe never.
Kinart used to hide little notes where he knew I'd find them. Then he'd watch me with that silly, sappy smile on his face I'd adored, waiting for me to find them in the most unlikely places. Under my pillow. Inside the front pocket of my favorite leathers. And one time, he’d somehow gotten the kitchen staff to put one beneath my breakfast plate on my tray. He’d sat beside me at the table, laughing and smirking before finally suggesting I peek.
Whenever I’d read one of his notes, he'd swoop me up after and reinforce his sweet words with kisses.
After he was killed, I found his last note in the aerie, tucked among my grooming gear.
Waiting. Forever waiting.
I hadn't dared read it. I’d hidden it away in this pouch and tried to forget it existed.
I should open it.
Read it.
But then I suspected I'd have to say a final goodbye.
I still wasn't ready.
I didn’t go up on deck. I packed up my precious things and stuffed the pack back into the closet. Then I stood by my open porthole and sucked in deep breaths of air with tears etching paths down my face.
Finally, when the moon started sliding toward the horizon, I dropped onto my bed and slept, my body curled around Farris.
17
REYLA
Iwoke the next morning to Lord Briscalar’s call at the door. “My lady. My lady? It’s past seven, and I’ve brought your breakfast tray. Would you unlock the door, or do you want me to do it for you?”
I didn’t like that magic could let almost anyone inside my room, especially after what happened on deck.
“My lady? Are you there?” he cried. “I’ve come with your breakfast, but I can bring it back later if you’d rather sleep.”
