Elowyn shut her door hard, the latch clicking into place like a final breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Her satchel dropped to the floor.
She stumbled to her desk, yanked out the battered book and a small pot of ink, her hands moving too fast, almost frantic.
The quill scratched to life against the page.
"Dear Mia,
I couldn’t write for some days now. Please, forgive me. I thought I’d go mad if I tried to. Everything presses down, everything swallows. I am losing my head—losing myself—"
Her breath hitched. Ink blotted across the margin where her hand shook. She wiped it, smearing black across her knuckles, but she pressed on, the letters crooked, desperate.
"Kaidan Melrose—he said—he said you were his mate. He looked straight at me when he spoke it, as though it was not a m
