What I am trying to say, my dearest Lyra, is that I am not the most socially articulate person. For years, I preferred books and spells to people, to my own detriment. Words have always come more easily to me through themask of ink than through my own voice.
That’s why I was so surprised when I met you.
Perhaps it was because the sun hid itself from our conversations, and so I felt my imperfections could be hidden from you—you, who were so bold and brash, who was like the fire to my icy exterior. But I was a fool. Those imperfections were never hidden at all. They became only splinters that tore into the heart of someone I had grown to love.
When we parted, I told you that your ribbon, your tower of water that lingered over us was why I left, why I couldn’t pursue a life with you.
It was a cowardly lie.
It was because I was afraid. Afraid that you would see me in the sun and change your mind, join me in my days and recognize the arrogant snob I truly was, perceive my ignorance, cringe at my awkward tendencies.
And your response left me wide open.
You knew them already. And you’d wanted me, anyway.
I… I will end here. I have little more to say on the matter without falling into self-pity, which shall not help my princely image.
I hope this letter finds you.
Yours,
Thom
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I tucked the letters into my coat on the walk home, clutching them tightly to my chest. Frosty air scratched against my throat, my nose pink from the cold that was loosening its grip for spring.
And I thought.
I thought about every time I’d judged him, every time I’d assumed the worst of him. I thought about David’s constant criticisms that had wormed their way into my view of the royal family.
And I thought about every time they’d subverted those expectations, from Stephen’s gratitude to Thom’s eagerness to help Asha.
He’d pulled me aside in the middle of the palace corridor to ask after her, with no care for the nobles swirling about us. Granted, he’d left abruptly in the middle of the conversation, but he’d spoken with me publicly.
He’d tutored me, a mere chambermaid, to begin with, and asked for little in return.
He’d tailored a curriculum to my learning pace. Pushed me beyond what even I believed I could do. Cheered me on, dared to believe I could grow stronger than even him.
He’d tried to see me the night before he left. Sent weekly,unanswered letters.
There were still Lee’s words to contend with, but perhaps there were two sides to even that story which I could begin to unravel when given the chance.
Perhaps I’d gotten Thom wrong. Perhaps I’d been blinded by assumptions just as much as he had.
And perhaps we’d needed to come apart, as much as it tore us both by the seams, so we could choose one another freely.
Destroyed only to be built anew.
Asha blinked wearily at me with the barest of smiles. “Lyranore.”
I perched on the edge of her bed, the blankets beneath me damp with sweat. “Yes, dear. I’m here.”
“Mama said you’d read to me.”
My mouth turned sour, my tongue thick. I held a sandwich out to her with a shaky hand. The sight of it dragged me back to another sandwich years ago, crumbs scattered beside Papa’s still form.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and managed a small smile. “I’d be happy to.”
