What if she discarded it or can’t remember where she put it?
“Ah!” She lifted a finger in the air. “I know where it is. I gave it to Red Bird.”
“Why on earth would you give it to Red Bird to keep?” Grey Feather asked, eyes wide beneath the folds of his skin.
“Because she keeps things. You know that,” Aiyana said.
“Well, go get it then,” Grey Feather said.
“Not when you ask me like that.” She placed her hands on her hips.
I almost smiled. Had I not been so keen to view the letter’s contents, I probably would have chuckled over this domestic squabble.
Grey Feather met her dark gaze. “Please retrieve the box, wife. Our friend Little Moon wants to see if she can make sense of Fierce Wind’s letter.”
“Of course.” Aiyana stepped closer to Grey Feather, leaned over, and kissed the top of his head.
“He can get cranky at times,” she said to me. “But he merely barks like a dog before he licks your face.”
She laughed as the chief scowled.
I smiled at her kindness.
Aiyana retreated from the teepee.
The silence between the chief and me wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable this time.
When Aiyana returned, she produced faded parchment paper, folded it in thirds, and tied it with a piece of leather.
“You can view this in private,” Grey Feather said, waving his hand, indicating I should leave.
I glanced at him, wondering if I should apologize again. But his wife was already fluttering around him like a mother hen, tending to his needs.
I rose and quietly departed.
I wandered away from the encampment, eager to read my mother’s words with no onlookers. I hoped nothing in her letters was as revealing and awful as what I’d witnessed in Balthazar’s lair. If my mother wrote of her sexual conquests, I would personally burn the letters.
I went beneath a tree, wanting to escape the hot, late-day sun, which shone directly in my eyes. Carefully, I unfolded the brittle parchment. Leaning against the rough bark, I recognized the writing as Italian. I began to read in a whispery voice, interpreting her musings aloud.
“My beloved Philip, I deeply apologize for abandoning you and leaving you with our child. I love you with all my heart, Philip. You must believe me! I left, however, because I had to. Staying would put both you and Emily in extreme danger. I couldn’t do that to either of you.”
I looked up from the writing, feeling a stab of jealous anger.
“At least my mom loved one of us,” I muttered. A sour taste filled my mouth before continuing to read.
“I found John James.”
I sat up straight. “Wow! She what? She found the mysterious John James?”
I kept on reading silently.
John gave me instructions on how to destroy Balthazar. I must find him and kill him. I have no other choice. As long as Balthazar lives, we are all in danger. He is a wicked, wicked man. You have to believe me. At times you have found me crazy, but there are things in this world you do not understand!
Please, Philip, do not look for me. I know you will try. And you will wonder and will not understand why I left you. I simply had to, my love. The thought of putting you and our dear, sweet Emily in the way of a madman breaks my heart.
Another surge of jealousy ripped through my heart, but I quashed it. I desperately wanted to read that she lovedme, too. I tried to erase the image of my mother trying to kill me while I fought through the birth canal and replace it with a loving statement.
But I guess you can’t always get what you want, right?
