Juniper sits with me while I cry on the floor in front of the crackling fire, nuzzling her wet nose into my cheek and neck. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to comfort me with false platitudes. There’s nothing she can say now that would comfort me. At least, until she crawls into my lap and nibbles the pocket of my cloak.
“Ready to read his letter?”
The letter.I’d almost forgotten.
I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, then reach into the deep pocket and slowly withdraw the letter Cairn gave me. He wrote my name on the front, in penmanship that’s neither tidy nor messy, but somewhere in the middle. I trace myfingertips across the ink, smiling as I imagine him sitting at the table in the kitchen, using his quill to shape the letters that make up my name.
After spending much too long staring at the envelope, I finally get up the nerve to open it. Carefully, I swipe my finger under the wax seal, making sure not to rip the envelope or the letter inside. Juniper scurries onto my knee impatiently, pressing up onto her back legs like she’s trying to read it before I can even get it out of the envelope.
With trembling fingers, I remove the letter from the sleeve and unfold it. Cairn’s handwriting stares back at me. My stomach clenches in anticipation. Then I start to read.
Dearest Lyra,
It’s the night before I leave, and you’re asleep in my bed right now, snoring so loudly I can hear you from where I’m sitting at the kitchen table.
My brows immediately tug together. “I don’t snore,” I grumble.
“Yes, you do. And what’s it say?” Juniper asks, reaching her paws out for it.
But I hold it up out of her reach. “Hang on. I’m not done.”
Yes, you do snore. I’d know.
But jokes aside... I’m going to miss you, Lyra. When the headmistress first came to me to ask if I’d agree to facilitating your community service, I wasn’t happy about it.Well, I was pissed, to be perfectly honest. I thought you were going to be a nuisance. And in some ways, you were. But in more ways, you were exactly what I needed. I just didn’t know it at the time.
I put down roots at Coven Crest, and I’ll admit that I’ve been afraid of moving again, of trying something new for fear it may not work out. And I’m afraid even now, as I sit here the night before I depart. I’m afraid I won’t be a good fit, or that they’ll determine they don’t want me after all, or that I’ll arrive and they’ll realize they made a mistake and send me on my way.
But because of you, I’m going to push through the fear, and I’m going to try something new.
You made mewantto uproot myself, made me want to grow leaves instead of burrowing deeper into the earth. And I’ll be forever grateful to you for that. If you hadn’t come storming into my life, with your fire and your temper and those beautiful freckles, I’m not sure I’d have even been brave enough to consider this position, let alone pack up my entire life and leave the place I call home.
To leave you, Lyra.
It hurts just inking it onto this page.
But I don’t want to give up. I want to fight for this. For you. And perhaps I’ve got my horns in the clouds, but I think this could be a good thing for us, because we both know that had I stayed at Coven Crest, things would’ve gone wrong eventually. The headmistress already knew about us, and she wouldn’t have allowed it. But this way, we’re free to be together—reallytogether—without sneaking around or hiding (as fun as that was). And I want toknow you in all the ways there are to know someone. I want to know everything about you.
But I’m not in any rush. I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with you.
Every. Single. One.
So, I guess there’s just one last thing I want to say. I’m scared to say it, but I feel I have to get it off my chest, so here goes.
I’m falling in love with you, Lyra Wilder. You’re wild and fiery and so beautiful it hurts—really, it does. Right in the middle of my ribs. And you might not feel the same way back, but I want you to know the truth. And that no matter the miles separating us, you are always, always on my mind. That’s not going to change.
Below, you’ll find a moonflower seed. It’s from the plant at the edge of the woods, the one we watched bloom together that night beneath the stars. I hope you’ll plant it, and when it blooms, perhaps you’ll think of me, and I won’t feel so far away.
I’ll see you on Ostara, little flame.
Please try not to burn anything down in the meantime.
With love,
Cairn
By the time I reach the end of the letter, more tears are tracking down my cheeks. One plops onto the parchment, and I hurriedly hold the paperaway so I won’t ruin it.
I want to keep this letter forever. I want to encase it in shatterproof glass and hang it on my wall, or sleep with it beneath my pillow.
