Chapter 8
Whenever Esme visited the Anais clinic, after school and on weekends, the sight of Ariane’s ephemeral form squeezed painfully at her heart. A whole wall of the room was now covered with drawings. The pot of lavender from Miranda’s garden still rested on the bedside desk. Sunlight streamed in through the open window, and the sea eagle was perched on the windowsill. The light, the art, the flowers, and the bird’s constant presence all served to make the room much warmer than it had been upon Ariane’s arrival.
Ariane’s touch, however, was as cold as ever.
Perhaps it was a good thing her father hadn’t come here, Esme thought as she tried to massage heat into her mother’s fingers. To discover that Ariane was alive, only to find her in this lifeless state … he might think the same t
