Page 50 of Iron Roses

Even then, she knew she was slipping over a line. And she kept writing to me. Confessing. Explaining. Begging me to see her as more than what she was about to do.

I swallow hard and unfold the third letter. My hand shakes as I read.

Letter Three — 2010

Forgive me, I am marrying your Cassian.

Elaria, it’s your sixteenth. I am so excited. I feel so proud watching you grow, my little squirrel. When you read this, you’ll hate me. I have stolen what’s yours. I want to say I did it for you but that’s a lie. A part of me has always wanted him for myself—is it so wrong?

Mom is happy about it. Dad not as much, but she convinced him to go through with it, to give me instead of you so you could have your freedom and a life instead of being used as a barter.

His family begrudgingly agrees, as long as it’s a Fontanesi.

I should tell you this face to face, but I am too ashamed and too embarrassed. I’ll hide this in a letter and I hope one day I’ll have the nerve to show it to you.

Your beloved sister.

A sob rises up my throat.

I press the back of my wrist to my mouth, trying to hold it in. It doesn’t help. It tears out of me—quiet, broken, raw. The kind of sound that only comes when something you never knew you’d lost is handed to you in pieces.

She loved me.

She envied me.

She betrayed me.

And she was sorry.

Letter Four — 2010, Later

Elaria,

He made love to me tonight. Cassian—he took me and he loved me.

I hate myself for telling you this but you’re the only one I can talk to. He is a dream that was never meant to be mine but yours—even this feels so temporary.

Forgive me, Elaria, but I want him. He might be bound to you but I need him. So please, this once Elaria, let me have something that is yours.

Your beloved sister.

I cover my face. The tears fall freely.

My hands tremble as I clutch the next letter—creased, the handwriting more fragile, like it was written between tears.

It’s the final one.

Letter Five — 2011

Elaria,

I am having Cassian’s baby.

I miss you so much. I’m sure Cassian is tired of me yapping about you. You should be nineteen soon and I promise—I’ll tell you everything. You’ll read the letters and I’ll look you in the eyes and tell you the truth.

I know you’ll hate me, but maybe not for long. Maybe you’ll be here with me when I bring my baby into this world.

Maybe I can hold you and smell your hair and kiss your cheek and tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am that things turned out this way.

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