March 7th, 1991
Fabrizio,
I know you are angry. I know the weight of your patience, and I do not take it lightly. But there is something you must know, and I pray you listen with the heart that has always known mine.
Joseph is sick.
It began subtly, but it has worsened. The healers speak in hushed tones now. They do not meet my eyes. And though no one dares say the word aloud, I hear it in their voices, feel it in my bones. He is dying.
And I… I cannot leave his side.
Not like this. Not while the entire kingdom watches his every breath and wonders what I will do. I am his Luna. His wife. The woman bound to him by ceremony, by duty, by years of loyalty. You and I have always lived in the quiet spaces between right and wrong, but this would be unforgivable in their eyes. If I were to v
