Seleste

THEN, AUTUMN, ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY FOUR YEARS AGO

T his year, the gown was the colour of rose-infused champagne.

This year, her letter was twenty-seven pages long.

This year, the roaring of his absence had begun to dull into an intolerable ache.

This year, there were guards outside his theatre box.

This year, he gave her his letter and reached for her, only to drop his hand at the last moment.

This year, Cal had been crowned King of Seagovia.

THEN, AUTUMN, ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FOUR YEARS AGO

His hair was beginning to grey at his temples, little patches of his beard lightening to white. The constant ache of her heart roared back to life in full force at the sight of him.

What she wouldn't give to trace the laugh lines around his eyes with her finger. To be the one that caused them. To grow old with this man.

This king who had shaken Seagovia to its core.

In the space between her entrance into the box and the trading of letters, so much was said in their silence.

Over the last twenty years, Cal had worked tirelessly to halt the Witch Trials, the senseless hanging of women—most of whom weren't even witches—in Seagovia and across Midlerea. Within the last year, he'd finally succeeded, snuffing out the last Church and Magus leading the hunt.

He'd also finally done away with laws of segregation and begun efforts to slowly lessen the vile separations of the class system. There was a long way to go before the people would truly change, but it was a joyous beginning.

"Thank you," said breathlessly through her tears.

She watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard. "I told you we would change this realm, you and I."

We .

bit her lip to keep from weeping and turned to leave him for another year.

She barely made it down the corridor before sitting on a bench to read at least some of his thick letter .

None of this would be possible without you. You changed everything. You changed me. It is your name that should be shouted in the streets. A witch with the kindness and cunning this realm would do well to emulate.

held the letter to her chest and sobbed.

He knew she was a witch.

Of course he knew.

NOW

Breathe , she told herself, eyes fixed on the gravel shot through with dried, brown grass.

Gaius lifted his hand to help her down, and gathered her skirts as tightly as she gathered her wits. Finally looking up, she had not prepared enough.

Glowing in the twilight, the stately rock and brick manor towered above, boasting four chimneys, two of them cracked and lilting. Ivy, sparser than before but still trailing, crawled up much of the Estern side. Nighttime birds twittered and flew across the wide expanse of star-studded sky into trees already turning copper and cinnamon—a woodland that shielded a chalet in its midst, where she'd left her heart. Rolling hills could just be seen from far behind the estate, guards over the places of her fondest memories—Noir Bay and a field of sunflowers.

Arielle nudged gently. "You can do this."

THEN, ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT YEARS AGO

That year, Cal didn't show.

She knew he wouldn't.

He was dead. Murdered in his room in the middle of the night, a blade to his throat. The lone assassin had never been caught.

Still, a box had arrived, at her isle this time, shortly after his death. And she had come.

King Caliban had no children, a fact that weighed on heavily. It was her Order, her potion, all those Summers ago that had eliminated any possibility of him procreating.

Now, his appalling cousin, Leopold, was ruling Seagovia with an iron fist.

Grief swelled within her breast as she sat in their theatre box alone in her seafoam dress, people of all walks of life seated below her, a tentative terror in the air. Already, this king had retracted many of Cal's anti-segregation laws.

The lanterns dimmed, and the musicians began to play. stood to leave, but the curtain opened, ballerinas in gossamer gowns filling the stage. It was such a beautiful sight for her shattered heart to see, and she wanted to grasp it with both hands, let it push the pain away. Slowly, she sat back down, in Cal's chair.

A few moments later, the curtain to the box shimmied, letting in a sliver of light, and a shadowy form walked in. Turning in her chair to better see, just made out the swish of expensive skirts and a slender build before an envelope was handed to her. The low lanterns in the box illuminated her visitor just enough.

"Queen Catherine." made to stand, but Catherine waved her off, sitting opposite her.

"It's Queen Dowager now, and you and I have no room for titles." Catherine held out her hand. Pushing back a torrent of tears, took it. "I never loved him the way you did, . I couldn't. But he became my dear friend. You and I both had secrets he helped us hide while he made Seagovia a place where we wouldn't have to any longer."

Catherine tore her gaze from the magnificent stage and looked at , her eyes pleading. "I'm not long for this world, , but you have a long life ahead of you. Promise me you and yours will do what you can to free all of us, in time."

squeezed Catherine's hand. "I promise."

The queen dowager smiled, wrinkles deepening, and, for the first time, stayed. Together, they watched the ballet and mourned the man they both loved in different ways.

When was back on her isle, alone with her grief, she opened Cal's final letter.

My beloved ,

I would give anything to erase every breath we spent apart. The pain of living a life without you has been immeasurable. Yet, I would never dream of blotting out one moment we spent together, just to nullify the pain.

If you have this letter in your hands, Catherine brought it to you, and it means I have died. I pray to all The Void's gods that you will remember our time together, but that it will never hold you back.

This realm needs you and your kindness, my darling.

I love you now and in every life hereafter.

Ever Yours,

Cal