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Corvan sheaths his dagger. He gently places the lock of hair back inside the box and picks up the envelope.
I reach out, offering to take the box.
His hands tremble as he gives it to me. His eyes are filled with sorrow—and yet he’s trusting me with this most precious memento.
He shakes his head. “For him to keep this… the bastard must’ve truly had feelings for her.”
I’m quiet. There’s nothing I can say that can possibly make things better.
I don’t know what lies inside that envelope, but I’m certain it’s going to shake Corvan’s world.
53
CORVAN
Filled with trepidation, I open the damn envelope.
Enough, already. Get it over and done with.
Part of me wants to leave it unread until after I deal with Ansar and the Talavarras and their infernal stupidity. Only the truly craven could delve into the forbidden arts of necromancy. It’s an affront to Hecoa herself and a grave insult to the dead—stealing them away from the underworld to animate their decaying corpses.
But this envelope has my mother’s sweet fragrance all over it.
Perhaps that’s why father had it sealed away and hidden underwater; so her scent would be preserved over the years. Perhaps he knew that someday, my sense of smell would grow so acute that I’d be able to detect the faintest remnant of her presence.
I almost drop to my knees.
Oh,the memories that come flooding in, hitting me with the force of the midday sunshine.
Scent is a powerful thing. I didn’t realize how powerful until now.
And the one thing that stops me from slipping into the past isherscent. As my mother’s sweet fragrance—of her favorite perfume, irises—lingers in my consciousness, another scent surrounds me, and it’s the one that’s brought me back to sanity over and over again.
It’s here. It’s now.
It’sher.
And there is nothing that affects me more powerfully than her.
She edges closer, resting her hand on my arm. Her touch grounds me, as if she’s anchoring me to the earth itself. I wouldn’t mind if she could draw forth the branch-tendrils like she did before and tie me to the damn ground.
I can’t believe that in such a short span of time, I’ve become so dependent on her.
Her presence beside me gives me the courage to retrieve the crisply folded piece of paper inside the envelope. Even this is imbued with my mother’s scent. It floods my senses, threatening to drag me to a dark place.
I unfold the paper.
It’s filled with handwritten script.Herscript, I instinctively realize, even though I don’t remember exactly what it looks like.
It’s a letter.
Dearest Corvan. My most precious son. If you’re reading this, then your father will have decided that it’s time for you to know the truth.
It’s for me. As I read her words, they echo in my mind with the sound of her voice—as if she’s speaking to me.
If you’re reading this, I will be long departed. If anything, the fact that you have this letter in your hands means that he’s retained the tiniest shred of decency.
I only want you to know the truth. You’re old enough now.
