Page 137 of Summer of Sacrifice

Seleste 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.

Seleste 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 Seleste 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 châlet 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 Seleste 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 Seleste 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. Seleste 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, Seleste 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.” Seleste 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, Seleste took it. “I never loved him the way you did, Seleste. 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 Seleste, her eyes pleading. “I’m not long for this world, Seleste, 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.”

Seleste squeezed Catherine’s hand. “I promise.”

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

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

My beloved Seleste,

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.

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