She accepted the letter and unfolded it right away.
It was brief—only a few lines, written with careful elegance:
Dear Miss Emberlyn,
I am to accompany my father to the frontier post. At the shortest, I shall be gone a year; at the longest, perhaps three. Before I depart, I wish to see you once more. There are words I would like to say.
Tomorrow at noon, at the Ten-Mile Pavilion beyond the city. If you do not come, I shall understand.
Signed—Isabella Tanmin.
Caelith read it in silence, her gaze lingering upon the ink long after the words had settled.
The maid remained where she stood, awaiting a reply.
Yvaine stepped closer. The moment she caught sight of the letter, her face drained of color.
"Sister! You must not go! She cannot mean well—after all she has done to you, and now suddenly she asks to meet? Who knows what scheme lies behind it?"
Caelith pursed her lips and said nothing.
She folded the letter and slipped it behind the wide belt of her dress.
