I followed Rowan through the central hall and I counted my breaths the way Lillian had taught me. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Keep the chest from tightening into something you cannot breathe around.
It did not fully work but it kept me upright.
The packhouse felt different as we moved through it. Or maybe I was different and the packhouse was simply reflecting that back at me. The stone walls and the low morning light and the smell of wood fire and old timber, all of it the same as it had been two hours ago when I had walked these corridors for the first time on my own terms.
But two hours ago I had not known my mother grew up inside these walls.
Two hours ago I had not known Caden's father had written a letter with my name in it when I was six years old.
Two hours ago
