Page 49 of Iron Roses

His chest bears that same cruel grace—cut with old scars. There’s a fresh scrape across his shoulder, faint but red. I wonder when he got it. I wonder why I want to press my mouth to it.

He crosses the room and places a worn wooden box on the table beside the mirror. His eyes meet mine.

I shiver.

He lifts a hand and gestures toward the window.

The message is silent but clear.

He’ll be outside. Waiting. Giving me space.

I nod, even though he hasn’t asked for a response. He lingers for a moment, gaze flickering across my face. It doesn’t feel like inspection. It feels like reverence.

And then he’s gone.

The room holds the ghost of him. It buzzes through my veins.

My hand reaches for the box before I even realize it. The wood is smooth beneath my fingertips, the clasp old but firm. My stomach tightens.

I unlatch it.

Inside—letters. Their edges are soft, paper yellowed with time. Some folded neatly. Others crumpled like they were written in a storm.

The topmost is dated ten years ago. They are from Giovanna.

My throat closes.

My fingers hesitate above the paper.

The first letter rests softly in my lap. Its edges are worn, the ink slightly smudged, but the handwriting is unmistakable—rounded, slightly rushed, with the occasional flourish when she got too excited to write neatly.

Giovanna’s voice finds me before the words do.

Letter One — 2007

Elaria,

You’re too young to know but your husband-to-be came. He is my friend, I’ll take good care of him. His name is Cassian. Mom will tell you this later but you were betrothed to him, tiedto him. Mom isn’t too happy with this because his family and ours shouldn’t be mingling but Dad isn’t listening. But never mind the family feud—he is handsome, he is kind and caring. I think he is perfect for you.

Your beloved sister.

My lips part. I don’t breathe.

A low ache begins to build—something hollow, sitting behind my ribs like fog creeping over still water. I turn to the next letter. The date is a year later.

Letter Two — 2008

Elaria,

You’re big enough to read now but I don’t think you’ll understand this. Forgive me but I am starting to fall in love with him—your Cassian. I know, I am a terrible sister. When you’re doing your lessons, he sneaks in to keep me company and I know I am crossing the line. But no worries, I know my place. I am certain that he is only being nice to me.

P.S. Mom is always mad at me these days so it makes sense my emotions are all over the place.

Your beloved sister.

I press a hand to my chest like I can hold something together that’s already breaking. The words blur, not from time, but from the water pooling in my eyes.

She knew.

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