Chapter 57
My mouth parts in shock, wide eyes dropping to the sealed letter. I snatch it from Lacera’s offered hand, ignoring her noise of objection.
“It’s fine,” Varrik says. “It’s actually for her.”
Shaking, my fingers graze over the paper. The familiar paper.
Tears well in my eyes as I touch the hardened wax dripped over the fold, and I bring it up, pressing the letter to my nose, inhaling the scent of home.
“Thanks, Lace,” I hear Varrik say, and then the door closes.
I open my watery eyes to see she’s gone, and Varrik stands in front of me, his expression filled with concern. “Are you ready to open it?” he asks quietly.
Nodding, I turn to go nearer the fire so I can read it by the flames.
My hands shake so badly it takes me a couple of tries before I can break the seal. I peel it open, fingers sliding over the creases. There’s a smaller folded piece of paper that falls out, and I catch it in my hand before I read my aunt’s scrawl.
Esti,
I cannot express the relief we’ve had upon receiving your message. To see your hand that’s written these words. There were many tears shed between your mother and me.
I’ve been searching for you through the city since you disappeared, never giving up, praying to the Fates every day for a miracle. Receiving your letter was one.
We desperately worry for you being in the company of the Pied Piper, knowing now that you were one of the taken. You said you have not been mistreated, and I pray that is true.
As for the Rats, they did not get in. I promise you, we were safe.
You have asked about your mother’s condition, and I will not lie to you. Her sickness is quite dire. Since that night you left for medicine, her convulsions have calmed to one a day, but . . . they are a struggle. Her strength wanes.
Fortunately, I have been able to sell enough paper to get what we need. Many letters have been going out now that the city’s gates are open, so paper is in high demand, which is a blessing.
But what we really need is you, home safe. Marryn has been inconsolable with grief. She holds your letter even now as I write back to you, unable to let go of it. It’s as if she fears it’ll disappear from her grasp.
Esti, my girl, mind your mettle, and know that we love you and are waiting for you.
With all our hearts,
Aunt Lenna
Tears drip down my face as I read her letter a second and third time, and the same three things repeat in my head.
They’re alive. They survived. M?m is very sick.
Still shaking, I pick up the smaller letter that fell out, pausing when I see “Pied Piper” scrawled on it.
“This one is for you,” I say, passing it over.
Varrik takes it, popping off the wax before unfolding it. A few coins fall out, rolling onto the floor. His eyes scan the letter while I frown at the money.
“Why did she give you that?” I ask, crouching down to pick them up where they fell.
“Bribery,” Varrik murmurs, before passing me the letter.
I grab it, my eyes going wide as I read.
To the Pied Piper,
It’s come to my attention that you’ve taken my niece as part of a debt.
I’ve sent coins to pay in full.
Send her back.
Right now.
With regards,
Lenna Calyx
“Quite demanding,” he notes, though I don’t miss the edge of approval in his tone.
“Yes. She is.”
I’m about to break.
My chin trembles, heart bursting with love for them. With momentous relief that they’re alive. With an aching misery that they’ve suffered in their despair over me, and at my mother’s worsening condition.
The fact that my bold aunt would send such a blunt letter to a Core fae, demanding he let me go home, makes me so incredibly homesick. And the update about my mother, about how sick she is . . . I know my aunt well enough that I can sense the gravity of the situation.
Tears keep pooling, too many to hold, and they spill out. I sit on the floor, unable to stay upright. I can’t. Not with all my feelings crashing down on me. Keeping the papers clutched in my hands, I crumple, head falling to my forearms as the tears flow.
As everything floods out.
I keep the letters safe in my hands, safe from the salt water that wrings out from my soul.
Varrik comes down to the floor beside me and pulls me into his chest, holding me while I cry, smoothing his hands over my back.
When my crying turns to wracking sobs, he seems to realize I’m not only weeping in relief, and I feel his body stiffen.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, mouth pressed to my hair with a kiss. “Please tell me.”
I lift my head, and Varrik strokes away the tears from my cheeks. “You have to understand, my family is everything to me,” I confess.
He cradles my jaw in one hand. “I know.”
I look into his eyes and then pass him the letter, my blue-tinged fingernails uncurling from the paper.
He takes it and reads my aunt’s words, and I watch his expression grow more and more troubled. “Your mother is sick?”
I nod and swipe at my eyes. “She’s always been chronically ill.
She gets convulsions. Headaches. Fatigue.
That’s what I was doing the night I broke curfew.
I was trying to find her medicine at the apothecary, but everything was sold out or stolen .
. .” Despair chokes me, forcing me to wrest it down enough to finish.
“She’s getting sicker, and I’m not there. I’m afraid she’s . . .”
I can’t say the word. I can’t.
But I have to.
“I’m afraid she’s dying, Varrik.”
The crux of all my fears spills out. I’m a wretched mess of decades-long worry and the recent, horrible dismay of the unknown. And now the confirmation.
She’s sick, so utterly sick, and I’m not there.
I need to be there.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was scared,” I admit, my chin wobbling, my heart breaking. “I didn’t know if I could trust you.”
He swallows hard, looking stricken at my misery. “You can, I promise you that.”
My breath trembles, my face collapsing. “I know. I know that now.”
His expression falters, then hardens. His handsome face solidifying with something like regret. “I utterly failed you. I’m so sorry.”
I feel my ribs tighten with reassurance at his declaration, and another kiss is pressed to my brow that makes my heart melt. Then he gets to his feet, pulling me up with him. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”
I freeze. “What?”
“I’m going to make this right. We’re going to return to Hamelyn and get your mother and aunt and bring them here, even if I have to lure the Govern and every single one of his damn patrolmen into the bay and rip open the gates with my bare hands.”
My mind scrambles with alarm. “But . . . Varrik, my mother, I . . . don’t think she can make the trip . . .”
“We’ll bring Conrad.”
I stiffen, every muscle locking up. Every thought stilling.
“Wait. You . . . you think his magic can help her?” I ask hoarsely.
“I don’t know, but we can try.”
I stare at him, shaken and stunned.
“But I-I don’t know if it’s safe,” I stammer. “I don’t know if she—”
His hands come up to hold my face, stemming my words. I’m unsure, unbound. Fears and worries pitch through me, leaving me to stumble. But he looks at me with such depth that I can feel each layer beneath the surface. Can see the heart that lies in the center of his fire.
“I will get you home to your mother,” he declares. “I will fix this, in any way that I can. We’ll take care of her.”
“You swear it?”
He nods without hesitation. “I swear it.”
A sob cracks from my throat as I stare at him. He is warmth and ferocity, and he is standing here, cradling my burdens in his strong hands, ready to take them on.
Relief bursts up from the deepest pits of my darkest worries, and finally, finally, true hope blooms.