Page 89 of A Fragile Enchantment

“I was a whimsical child, if you can believe that. My father hardly knew what to do with me.” Niamh could believe it, actually. She remembered, so vividly, Sofia’s account of her childhood joy: running through the snow, pink-nosed and laughing, chasing after spirits glittering just out of reach in the flurries. Sofia’s warm expression sobered. “However, I beat it out of myself over the years. So thankyou,Miss O’Connor, for reminding me. I meant what I told you. Your divine blood is extraordinary—but your compassion and patience for others more so. You make things lighter wherever you go.”

The kindness of those words struck her like a knife to the heart. Thank every merciful god in the Otherworld that she had no more tears within her to cry. “Thank you very much, Your Highness.”

“Where are you going now?” she asked, almost eagerly. “Are you hoping to speak to Kit?”

No,Niamh wanted to say,I have lost that right entirely.

But whatever pathetic feeling showed on her face made Sofia’s eyes sparkle softly with—of all things—delight.“I thought so. Infanta Rosa is a lovely young woman, but it is very clear to me that they are ill-suited for each other.”

“As are we,” she protested. “I cannot ask him to abandon his duty for my sake.”

“I married for duty. I knew that was my lot in life from a young age, and I made my peace with it. Love can grow, given time and space. But if you will allow me one of my childish sentiments…” Wistfulness played at the edges of her smile. “If there is any other option, if love already exists, who are we to stand in the way of it? You have given much to those around you. I wonder what you may discover if you showed yourself the same gentleness. Will you find out for us both?”

If you believe you’ve made no difference at all to anyone,Kit had told her once,you’re even more clueless than I thought.

She thought she’d given everyone nothing but trouble. But perhaps kindness was not nothing.

Niamh wound her arms around Sofia and hugged her close.Sofia startled, but very tentatively, she placed a hand on the small of Niamh’s back. The scents of newly fallen snow and the fragile bloom of snowdrop washed over her.

“Do not delay any longer,” Sofia said softly. “I sincerely hope we will have a long time to get to know each other.”

“Thank you,” Niamh whispered.

With that, she gathered up the veil around her and hurried through the front door. In the circle of the driveway, a carriage waited for her, just as Sinclair had promised. And when the horses took off toward the city, those first, juddering steps felt like the waves of the Machlish Sea: as uncertain and endless as possibility.

An archway of bougainvillea shrouded the path to Sinclair’s townhouse. Pink petals were scattered across the flagstones, bright and curling as they dried in the sun. They crunched pleasantly beneath her boots as she approached, a taste of autumn in late spring. Kit had chosen the property well. Niamh had to admit she was pleasantly surprised.

When she reached the top stair, she tripped over her own foot. She gasped but caught herself on the front door at the last moment. Her palms slapping against the wood must’ve alerted Sinclair’s staff of her presence, because the door swung open to reveal his very concerned housekeeper. She was led to the drawing room and within a minute, a tea service was brought out for her. The very sight of it reminded her that she was famished. She grabbed one of the delicate finger sandwiches and placed the whole thing into her mouth. Rude, she supposed, but she supposed politeness was the last thing she owed Sinclair at this point.

“You came.”

Niamh nearly choked at the sound of Sinclair’s voice.

He leaned in the doorway. His hair had fallen just short of itsusual intentional wildness. Today, he only looked harried. He was still in his shirtsleeves, with his cravat loose around his neck. A bruise in the shape of Kit’s elbow blossomed along his throat.

She winced at the sight of it. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” His fingers fluttered to the bruise, as though just remembering its existence.Liar.It must’ve pained him terribly to swallow or speak. He entered the room and sat across from her, his elbows propped up on his knees. As he drank in her expression, his own softened. “Are you?”

“Not yet. I believe I was promised groveling.”

“Right.” Self-consciously, he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I will say that I am sorry as many times as you need to hear it. I never should have taken things as far as I did with the two of you. But ever since the Duke of Pelinor disowned me, I’ve been so angry. Lovelace was supposed to help ensure that no one would suffer the way I have. Punished and hated, just because they’re not ‘fully’ Avlish.” He paused. “For years, I’ve been treading water. But when I realized I had a chance to hit Jack where it hurt, I got carried away. I didn’t give either of you the benefit of the doubt in telling you what I was doing. I’m paying the price for that now.”

“Did you really believe either of us would turn you in?” she asked quietly. “Your cause was just.”

“I suppose I’ve gotten too used to hiding over the years.”

“Both of us care for you a lot, Sinclair. You were the first person to show me kindness in Sootham.” She lowered her gaze. “I have not had many friends in my life. The time I shared with you and Kit was meaningful to me. I suppose that is what stings most of all. What you did tarnished what I’d held so dear.”

“I know. It was meaningful to me, too.” His voice broke. “I am so sorry. For so many things.”

“I didn’t tell him we’d exchanged letters, either,” Niamh murmured. “We’ve both made mistakes, and I can see you regret them as much as I do. I forgive you.”

He lifted his head and stared at her with red-rimmed eyes. “You do?”

“Of course.” She offered him a tentative smile. “I am still hurt. But your intentions were good. Theyaregood. And, well… You were right.”

He looked surprised. “What do you mean?”