Fire hissed and popped a secret song between the flames and thick logs. Shrouded by the dimness in the corner of the Weston Estate morning room, Leanna tightened her shawl about her shoulders and kept away to where this light could not reach her. Enrapt by flares upon flares of thought, she stared as if transfixed by the flames. But her favorite sight of crimson curls and orange vines pirouetting to nothingness in the shadow of the flue went wholly unseen. Present in body—a weary, sore body—Leanna's mind wandered far, walking the thin line of dances on high wires and goodbyes to new friends; that of a snowy Forever and the tempest of a man's mind; that of leaving her home forever...the only home she'd ever known.
A hollow ache gathered just above Leanna's heart, and the room vanished to a speckled mess of light and shadow behind her tears. She twisted the cool crystal between her fingers, comforted that at least Finvarra had been honest enough—truthful enough for a manipulative, arrogant, boorish man with manners to be desired. Still, a small smile trounced Leanna's frown. Heartless or not, murderer or madman, Finvarra had kept his word. Somehow she had woken that morning in her own four poster bed, her tattered garments returned to their perfected state. Surely Finvarra had concocted some magic to have done this—or had it been Kioyo? Oh who cares, Leanna thought sinking further into the divan. She'd been taken home to see her family one last time. And now—Leanna looked to the clock on the mantle as it struck half past ten—a time to say goodbye to them all.
Dizzy with thought, Leanna let out a heavy sigh.
"Do you mean to sulk all day?" Sarah's arched tone righted the world around Leanna. "You've been sighing all morning, and all throughout morning meal. If it weren't for Dr. Luther's call this morning, I'd have Edith escort you to your rooms since our company is such a bore." Sarah scoffed, and—with little regard for Leanna—strode to Leanna's dark little corner in the world. With a grunt and a tug, she snapped the thick velvet curtains open. Leanna jerked back and shielded her eyes as light burst through the arched windows, filling the room in gold.
Sarah dusted her hands proudly. Resting them on her corseted waist, she stood back to admire her rather minuscule work. "There. We don't want Dr. Luther to think he is entering a mausoleum, as deathly as some may seem," she added as a bitter afterthought. Her nose high in the air, Sarah strode toward the console table between the two windows, turning her attentions to an arrangement of peonies and white roses.
"I do wish you'd do without that sour expression." Lydia started, appearing beside Leanna—actually, she might have been there the entire time, but Leanna was much too tired to notice. Her body ached to where it seemed her soul was burdened with its skin and bones, and she dragged as such, as if wanting to leave it behind. And her mind, well, Leanna wondered if it'd ever left the fairgrounds at all.
"I just don't see why Dr. Luther is coming when he was just here yesterday," Leanna said. "And why must we all be here if he's only come to see Papa? And where is Papa? I told him at breakfast that I had something rather important I wished to discuss with him... with all of you in fact, and I haven't much time." Truthfully, Leanna had no clue what she would say. She had thought to tell them she was leaving for a convent somewhere in the mountains of Pale Clearing, but that was as impractical as saying she'd be joining the circus. Her father would have none of it.
Lydia dismissed this with a feeble wave of her hand that made smoke of Leanna's words. Finger by finger she slipped off her white laced gloves. "Dr. Luther is a friend of the family, and regardless of his situation, if he calls on Papa, it is the same as him calling on all of us. Thus we must all be present," Lydia reminded her crossly.
Leanna groaned and her eyes flitted to the clock. Though only three minutes had passed, it was three minutes closer to noon. She gulped and apprehension made glue of her skin, her dress now clinging to her mercilessly. She shut her eyes to tame her rapid heart when—
"Ouch!" she squealed. Her eyes snapped open and a hand flinched to her cheek. Lydia had pinched it—and she made to pinch it again! Leanna slapped the dainty hand away.
"Sit still!" Lydia ordered and batted away Leanna's interfering hands as if a pesky fly. "I'm doing it to help you. You're death personified, Leanna! You're so pale!"
"It's called illness," Leanna retorted, evading her sister's pincer-like fingers. "Would you quit that? You're like a rabid crab!"
Lydia ignored this, her attack insistent. "And these dark circles under your eyes are ghastly!"
"Ghastly?" Sarah crooned from over the vase of flowers. With a contemptuous snort, she turned back to her peonies. "Ghostly, more like it," she murmured to them as if in secret.
Leanna was left without air. Sarah's insult was not surprising, but that morning it hurt more than ever before. In Leanna's moment of distraction, Lydia broke through her failed defenses and pinched her cheek. The deep ache from Sarah's words diluted the prickle on Leanna's skin. She didn't even flinch.
Lydia said with one final nip, "Some color on your cheeks will do you good," and then she took to the silk ribbons on the sleeves of Leanna's gray muslin gown. "And why on earth did you wear this dreary thing? I'd told Edith to set out the yellow one!" Lydia huffed, irritably yanking two tassels together into a tight knot. "You've so much to learn. Pink reflects innocence and youthfulness, and yellow health and joy. You wear gray, and all one can think of is a miserable, dejected spinster!" Her fiery blue eyes widened a fraction more. "And you didn't even wear the pearls I left on your dresser? Or the brooch?"
Leanna blinked. The natural action seemed to clear the fog of her thoughts, and her mind finally woke from its slumber of Big Tops and snowy fields. It became conscious then of the world around her, one where two sisters who always evaded her, now kept her company willingly. More, they beautified her and the room around her.
Leanna's eyes toured between her two sisters, a flicker of worry igniting. She said to Lydia first, "Is there some occasion I've forgotten? Or something I am unaware of..."
Lydia perfected the knot on Leanna's sleeve and then moved to the one by her shoulder. Never once did she meet Leanna's eyes. "Of course not. Why do you ask?"
"Well, you've never let me wear your jewels before, much less your pearls. Peter gave you those..."
At this, Lydia shrugged nonchalantly. Leanna's small flicker of concern raged to a wildfire. Lydia always had an answer for everything, as elder siblings often do. Had she no answer, Leanna was certain Lydia would just make one up and call it fact.
Leanna turned to Sarah who hummed a sweet tune to the flowers beside the bookcase. "And you, Sarah, why are you suddenly so concerned with the state of the drawing room? Heaven knows you detest flowers..."
Sarah shoved the stem of a single white rose into the vase with a huff, the delicate snowy petals floating down to adorn the table. She pinned Leanna with a dry, thorny gaze and her nostrils flared. "Here we are, slaving in trying to do something nice for you, yet all you do is badger us and give us a hard time! " Sarah stalked to the vase on the side table of the divan. There she abused a few more flowers while muttering bitter nothings under her breath.
"Oh, do stop being so dramatic, Sarah." Lydia rolled her eyes and stood. She smoothed down her gown, soft hushes fading into the tense quiet between the quarrelling girls. Lydia turned her attentions back to Leanna and tucked a strand of hair behind Leanna's ear in delicateness unlike her.
Leanna met her sister's open stare in a way she never had, and they looked at each other. There was joy in Lydia's eyes, and Leanna forced herself to believe it was because they were all spending time together. She smiled lightly at her eldest sister.
As if snapping from a dream, Lydia lowered her lashes and cleared her throat. "And you, stop asking so many questions. It's not very becoming—"
Muffled voices seeped in from outside the drawing room, and the closing of the front door silenced Lydia. She tilted her head toward the invading noise, and Sarah paused in her flower arrangement. At once they turned to one another. Immeasurable secrets saturated their look, and Leanna swore they smiled at each other, but she couldn't trust her weary mind. Not that morning at least. But there was something strange about the air that day...
Footsteps echoed down the hall, drawing closer. A strange, steady rasping sound accompanied the steps, as if something was being dragged or rolled. At once, Lydia yanked Leanna's arm and all but dragged her to the settee in the sitting area at the center of the room.Sarah abandoned the flowers as if they'd scalded her and rushed to the winged back chair opposite Leanna. Lydia resumed her seat beside Leanna, tucking an errant strand of hair back from Leanna's forehead just as the scraping stopped and the door opened.
Against the strangeness of the morning, birthed no doubt by her impending farewell, in looking at Lydia, Leanna was flooded with memories of her younger self. How many hours she'd spent wanting—wishing to look so much like Lydia. Often Leanna imitated her in front of mirrors, taking her finger to the tip of her nose and pushing it up. Her young mind had wondered what it would be like to have Lydia's turned up nose, or what the world looked like when looking down upon it, rather than being looked down on by it.
She turned her gaze then to Sarah, too remembering wishing she had those long blond curls that twirled to the very tips as oppose to stringy, brown that was neither curly nor straight. Oh and those cheeks that naturally flushed and only made her gray eyes grayer. But then Leanna would look to the freckled face girl with a ghostly pallor and coal-like eyes staring back at her, and the fog in the mirror cleared. She would never be like them, as beautiful and youthful as them, as healthy. Leanna sighed. That was all in the past. She would still miss them terribly.
Mr. Weston walked into the room. Leanna looked to her father, the handsome gray haired man whose love of chocolate cake in the morning was prominently displayed in his rounded belly. Her chest ached. She would never see him again. Against all their disagreements, recognizing how much she'd miss him left Leanna without breath.
Mr. Weston stepped aside, and Dr. Luther entered the morning room. Leanna found her breath readily. Dr. Luther's dreary woolen black coat was replaced with a dusty brown tweed walking suit that hinted toward caramel in the light coming in from the windows behind her. This was surprising to say the least, as Leanna knew very well the cost of such a suit, especially on a young doctor's wages. At barely twenty-five, Leanna was confident such a suit must have cost him a small fortune. Also disconcerting was the distinct absence of his thick leather bag, which, were it not for him setting it down at every appointment, Leanna would have thought it attached to his hand.
But it was the furtive look shared between her father and doctor that stoked Leanna's suspicions. She studied the two men earnestly. There was a touch of something in her father's eyes, something bright and... hopeful... something Leanna couldn't quite put her finger on.
With hands at his sides, Dr. Luther inclined his head. He smiled at each of the Weston sisters, but held Leanna's stare for a slight longer. His normally clear gray eyes were darkened with an emotion. Worry? Fear? Leanna made herself smile lightly, courteously, while scrutinizing him, hoping to decipher this foreign look of him.
Lydia spoke first. "Dr. Luther, how lovely of you to call on us this morning. Forgive us as it appears you are outnumbered. Had we had more notice, I would have asked Peter to join us. He is normally the one outnumbered by us ladies. Though, with the coming of Finvarra's Circus, no one can tear him away from Grover's Field. It seems everyone wants to know whether the tents are erected magically." Lydia rolled her eyes in feigned annoyance.
Her father motioned a hand, welcoming the doctor to a seat at the settee opposite Leanna's. "Yes, yes, how is Constable Luther fairing? With this preposterous circus coming to town, he must be quite nervous," Mr. Weston said, now at bar where he poured two glasses of sherry. Leanna's brows knitted. Her father only drank sherry when he was in high spirits. He hadn't drank sherry in years.
Dr. Luther sat on the edge of the settee, stiffly. "Not nervous, no, but concerned about the welfare of the young women in Winter Abbey. This circus does not travel without its share of scandal. Father is thinking of requesting a meeting with this Ringmaster Finvarra to stress that such will not be tolerated in Winter Abbey. If anything at all happens, Father will make sure they never operate in another town again. He will be watching them very closely once they arrive."
Leanna sat up sharply. "Once they arrive? But I...I thought they were already here?"
"Oh no, no. The fairgrounds are still empty, save for the thick fog that's settled there as of late. I suspect they will be arriving soon, however, seeing as advance men have already passed through ahead of the circus and put up posters publicizing its arrival. I saw them all over town this morning. Everyone is in quite a tizzy over it. Opening day is to be four days from today and the posters say there is a new tight wire act, some sort of 'magnificent faerie goddess'". He waved his hand dismissively. "Regardless of their lure, they will be closely watched."
Leanna paled, feeling suddenly ill. Surely it couldn't have been referring to her. She was no faerie goddess! And definitely not magnificent...
Mr. Weston handed Dr. Luther his tumbler and raised his glass. "Tell Constable Luther he has my full support. Were Peter not escorting the girls, I dare say I'd tie them to their chairs before letting them go. At least I will have some comfort knowing Leanna won't be anywhere near there."
"Oh Papa," Sarah giggled, a gloved hand covering her mouth. "Don't be ridiculous. Leanna would be the safest of us all. Finvarra would never want her heart."
Leanna's face ignited and Lydia shot Sarah a look. "Those are just tales to get people to talk," she said and placed a hand over Leanna's. She squeezed them gently. "And I am confident that there is in fact a man out there who will want Leanna's heart just as it is. And speaking of magic and hearts, pray, Dr. Luther, to what do we owe the honor of your call this morning?" Lydia smiled.
"Yes," Leanna said, casting a look at the clock. Ten minutes to eleven! She had to get rid of this man and say her goodbyes! She said, "If you are here for my sake, well, I do thank you for coming, but I can assure you, I am fine—I've never felt better, actually. Forgive Papa, he tends to worry prematurely. I do hope we didn't ruin your plans for the day, seeing as you were just here yesterday. But the day is young!" Leanna rose sharply. "I'm sure if you leave now, you can salvage the rest of your morning! Shall I fetch your coat?"
Dr. Luther chuckled nervously. "You've such a kind heart, Leanna, but not to worry. Nothing is as important as my best patient."
Best patient? Leanna's smile slowly wilted under Dr. Luther's direct gaze, and she sat slowly, not liking it at all.
He swallowed visibly then and set down his tumbler. "Actually, I had hoped to return tomorrow, but I couldn't force myself to wait. You see, I can't say my visit here is entirely business. " Suddenly it seemed as if his cravat were set to suffocate him. He tugged a pale yellow handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his brow.
"Is that so?" Mr. Weston said and patted the man's shoulder gruffly with a knowing grin that inundated his cheeks in red.
On cue, Dr. Luther excused himself. Leanna's stomach clenched into a tight fist of nerves as Dr. Luther stepped into the hall. A moment and the strange scraping sound started again. Dr. Luther reappeared, rolling before him what Leanna knew all too well to be a wheel chair.
At once, as if synced with the rolling wheels, everyone turned their necks, looking to Leanna who paled in the same slow, torturous speed. She let out a measured breath. It couldn't be that—well, surely it couldn't be meant for her...
"Isn't it marvelous?" Sarah clapped her hands hollowly. Leanna's chest cracked with every clap, but she could not tear her sights from the chair of plush blue velvet, with two large wooden spoke wheels on either side. Beneath the rich velvet seat were two smaller platforms, no doubt a rest for the rider's feet. Dr. Luther moved it toward Leanna, and Leanna realized that the rider was in fact meant to be her!
"Your father disclosed to me your concern at not being able to enjoy the simple things in life, and I suggested that perhaps this would solve that little problem." Dr. Luther came around the chair and knelt before Leanna, a new gleam to his eye.
"We shan't let your heart imprison you, Leanna. You will see how extraordinary it is. You were worried that you would never experience a full life. This chair will let you travel further than you ever imagined, without exerting yourself. And look, this is the beautiful part," he said proudly, and flipped down two parallel stands to make a small platform. "These lift up for when you want to stand. And when you sit," he turned them back down. "You can rest your feet."
Around her, everyone congratulated the doctor for his gift of freedom, but it all fell to indistinct chatter in Leanna's ears as her gaze traveled along the metal contraption. Cold, she said nothing. Anger, disappointment, and pain trailed one another just as quietly across her face.
Dr. Luther looked at her worriedly, and in following her gaze, chuckled to himself. "It is a wheel chair..." he tried to explain to her lightheartedly, and at Lydia's urging, he slid onto the divan beside her. "It's much more comfortable than it looks. I can assure you that once you sit on it, you'll never want to stand!"
"Yes, do sit on it!" Sarah nudged gleefully with another clap. Leanna winced.
Their conspiring was now tangible. Heat rose into Leanna's face, and she dug her nails into the settee edge until the pain numbed her fingers. Sadly, it did nothing for the hurt in her heart.
Leanna forced her eyes from the metal and velvet tomb to Dr. Luther's gray stare. "I know what it is. What I wish to know is why it is here? Last I checked it was my heart that was the problem, never my legs. Or are you wrong about that as well? Recent developments have led me to believe that my heart is not as damaged as you claim it to be," Leanna said against their satisfied smirks, unable to rid the contemptuous edge from her voice.
Sarah gasped. "Oh doctor, do forgive her. She's been acting a little strange...well, stranger than usual—"
"Leanna, we spoke of this," Mr. Weston said suddenly from beside her, his voice coming in low and hesitant. "I told you that there was indeed a world outside of your books, and of this preposterous circus. Here is true magic, real innovation!" He tapped the chair as if testing how sturdy it was. "Even when you are not feeling your best, Edith could at least take you into the gardens instead of you fading away in your room. We thought if you felt free, and not so confined by your condition, maybe you would be open to accept other... proposals."
At these words, Dr. Luther took Leanna's hand in his. He said, "Proposals I do hope you consider..."
Leanna let out an arched cry, the truth of it all squeezing the air from her lungs. Proposals? They didn't just want to force her into this chair—they wanted to force her to marry this man! At once, the divan grew too small for her Leanna's liking and nauseated, she leapt to her feet.
Horrified, she pressed shaking fingers to her mouth. Why hadn't they discussed this with her? Something as significant and binding as marriage? Leanna's heart sunk. They wanted to get rid of her.
Lydia's smile withered, breathing life into Leanna's suspicions with a look that warned. Don't ruin this, it told Leanna, We can finally be free of you. It could have also been Leanna's bitter half misinterpreting things, but over her heartbeats, Leanna could not differentiate family from traitor.
She clutched the necklace tightly to the point she thought it'd pulverize in her damp palms. If they only knew of how she walked on air the night before, they wouldn't relegate her to this chair. Her hand melted from the crystal and lay flat on her chest where she'd tucked Jin's feather. If they'd only seen how brave she'd been, how fearless in facing the rope, the lion—Finvarra!
Leanna looked at them all, one by one, squarely in the eyes, seeking refuge in one of their stares. One of them had to know the feelings of her heart. Did not some link of sheer blood create this bond? She could not marry this man! First she met Lydia's stare, and then Sarah's, and finally her father's. The glimmer of hope in their eyes dug into Leanna with a vengeance, and the room grew small around her.
She stumbled forward. "I need air..." was all she could say through the knot of deceit in her throat.
Sarah rose, and desperately dragged Dr. Luther to his feet. "Yes! Air! What a fabulous idea! Why not take her out in the gardens? The trees are always beautiful this time of season, all the reds and gold and—"
"Don't!" Leanna shot up a firm hand between them all.
Fatigue dying somewhere to offense and downright pain, Leanna rolled the dreaded chair away from her with a grunt and managed the short distance to the doorway. Grasping the wooden frame as her only lifeline from the hard floor, she turned. She looked first at the wheeled contraption, memories of the prior night floating in her mind. For an irrational moment, Leanna laughed.
"You wish to bind me to this chair and call it freedom?" she struggled to say in between gurgles.
Against her laughter, Dr. Luther met Leanna by the door. He said, "I must speak plainly, Miss Weston. I know it comes as a surprise, but after your father disclosed how... alone you felt, I knew I should have made my feelings known."
Leanna scoffed and turned her head away, wordless. Her father had not only betrayed her trust, but her confidence as well.
"Forgive me," Dr. Luther said. "I did not mean to upset you, but I believe my position not only assures you are in the best care, but it also means that I truly understand how you feel. I can assure you, Miss Weston, you are not alone." Dr. Luther shifted closer, much too close for Leanna. She moved back when he took her hand into his, gently but firmly. "I know your loneliness as if it were my own. I see it in patients every day, yet I do not feel any of their woes as closely as I feel yours."
Leanna snatched her hand away. "Don't do this, Dr. Luther. Please do not say any more for I cannot marry you." Leanna turned to face her family. "For reasons I cannot tell any of you, I found my freedom last night. I have the chance at a new life in a world where my illness no longer plagues me, and you want to take it from me?"
A deep crease marked Dr. Luther's brow, and seemed to spread across the room.
How badly Leanna wanted to shout to them and tell them of all the things she'd done, as if they stood on the forest ground while she stood on the high towers of Forever. Resignedly, Leanna sighed. "I want to choose how to live my life—however brief it may be. A chair and a husband are not what I want. They are not my choices."
Lydia rose to her feet sharply, fists gathered at her sides. "Stop being so foolish, Leanna! This world you speak of is not real. You dreamt it all, and it will never come true. Your illness will always plague you. Let us—let Dr. Luther care for you. We know what is best for you. The world is a dangerous place, much too dangerous for someone as fragile as you. When we can no longer care for you, who will? You are weak and your heart will fail you..."
"Poppet, please understand," her father took a step toward her, his pallor reminiscent of the snowy grounds of Forever. The silent urgency for familiarity in his voice soured Leanna's stomach.
"Understand what? That I am a burden to you and wish to unload me onto another?" Not allowing her father to answer, Leanna turned to Dr. Luther. "My father had no right setting you in the middle of this doctor, and for that I am sorry. I am sorry you had to drag this-this—metal..." Leanna simply couldn't think of a proper name. Metallic prison? "Metal contraption—"
"It is a bath chair," he said, "Meant to aid those that are invalid—"
"And I am not! They wish me to be—you are convinced I am, but I have proven to myself that I am not! For an invalid, this chair is a godsend, but to me it is a wheeled prison which I cannot willingly bind myself to. All of you are wrong," she hissed passionately, and met their horrified stares. "If you knew the marvelous things I've done! Of how I walked across—"
In her bosom, the crystal turned so cold it burned the delicate skin, and it stayed her tongue. Enraged, Leanna let out a strangled sound. "Oh damn you," she cried to the memory of Finvarra at having forbid her to tell. "Damn you!"
Her father gasped. "Leanna Weston!" he started, but Leanna stormed from the room, leaving them to stare at a closed door and an empty chair.
Leanna fled to her room and burst the windows open, needing air, more air than she could get in the confines of the four walled prison that was her room. As if hearing her soul's plea through her sobs, the winds hushed their quiet sigh through the trees, exhaling the worlds ache in one cool, even breeze. Leanna watched it surf through the gold and red treetops that waved toward her, until its invisible fingers reached her, embracing her trembling frame. The fabric of Leanna's dress let out a final hush as defeat weighed her down onto the bench before her window.
With decisions being made for her, and choices being denied her, all Leanna could do was think of the dreaded metal contraption. Worse, proposals! She shook her head solemnly. How could they do this to her? How could strangers such as Jin and Ellie have believed she could cross a wire high in the air, yet her own family didn't even trust her to live her life with her feet planted firmly on the ground?
And surely it was closer to noon now, Leanna thought sadly. She didn't dare look at the clock. She'd never make it back to the circus on time. Finvarra would come and take her heart, however useless it were to him. After all, he had proved he was a man of his word. Leanna sighed. Or worse, maybe he'd never come at all and abandon her to forced marriages and metal chairs.
And if he didn't come, how would she ever leave her house after that outburst? She didn't have to hear them to know that downstairs they were plotting as to who would come up to her room and convince her of their plan. Yes, they'd be watching her closely now. If she dared run, no doubt her father would ride his horse to the ground to find her. Besides, she never could run very fast. But heaven's, she couldn't marry Dr. Luther. She just couldn't!
The bells in the distance tolled the hour.
Noon.
Leanna bristled, feeling each toll resonate in her soul.
"Whatever am I going to do?" she whispered to the trees, just as the last toll resounded. In the fading echoes of the bell, the world fell silent. The winds didn't blow, and the trees didn't hush their answer. Leanna felt her heart fall...
A light breeze whispered past, and on its wings, an answer.
"You are going to come along," the velvety voice said, caressing her ear in the passing draft. "Or lose your heart to me," it spoke then from behind her.
Leanna didn't need to turn around to know who it was. That scent, that voice could only belong to one man. But she did turn and the sight had her heart making to break free from her chest. There in the middle of her room stood Finvarra in the same garments from that dawn. The sadness from earlier in the morning cradled his eyes, the black making his skin paler, more ethereal. Light from the fire behind him framed his hair that fanned out in the winds like a halo.
Leanna cupped her mouth to stifle a cry. For a moment she just stared as if watching the coming of an angel—an utterly deplorable, ill-mannered beast of a fallen angel. But he was there, and he hadn't abandoned her. More, he was no dream.
Coming undone, Leanna tore from the window and ran to him, gathering against him like a child. Closing her eyes, Leanna inhaled deeply, intoxicating herself with the scent of vanilla and hyacinths, of night and kindred sadness. She relished in the wintriness that radiated through the moistened fabric of his shirt. The frost of night clung desperately to his skin as if he'd chased it to the ends of the earth and into the next night. In the heat of Leanna's anger and pain, it was a cool comfort.
Under Leanna's hands, Finvarra stiffened, growing colder and harder than the icy towers of Forever. He held his hands tightly at his back, as if tied there against his will. But Leanna ignored his discomfort. She didn't release him. Whether he pushed her away, mocked her tears, or took her heart that instant—for those few moments, Leanna dug her fingers deeper into coolness of his skin. She felt him there—real, cold, and unmoving— as the traces of morning dew on his cloak dampened her fingertips.
And she wept. Hopeless, she had felt herself fall into the pits of a forced marriage, into the seat of a metallic prison . But there, under the constant beating of Finvarra's cursed heart, Leanna wept openly, having been caught.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-*~-*~-*~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Thank you all for reading! Please vote and comment if you enjoyed it :)