EPILOGUE II
Epilogue II
A Letter from the Duke of Kendall to His Duchess on the Occasion of Their 10th Wedding Anniversary
Heart of my heart,
My love, how the years have flown. As well you know, I generally do not heap praise upon Ethan Penn-Leith. The man will always remain too saccharine for my tastes. However, today of all days, I wish my pen held a thimble’s worth of his knack for poetry. (Please do not tell Allie I described her husband so lavishly. Her teasing would be merciless.)
Had I the gift of words, I would spill them all attempting to capture the vivid joy of you, my Isolde. I would choose light-bringer and beloved—soulmate, life-friend.
I would string together descriptions like “the scarlet beauty of a winter rose against snow” or “the honey warmth of a mulled-wine kiss.”
But such phrases would frustrate me with their insufficiency. The impossibility of confining the depth of my love to vowels and consonants.
So I merely say this—
All that I am. All that I will ever be. Every last atom of my being.
There will only, always, be you.
Yours will be the last syllable on my dying lips. The last image, feather-light, behind my eyes.
Isolde.
My love.
My forever.
Your Tristan