Suddenly, my throat felt thick, and I tried to ignore the upswell of emotion that came with the revelation.
I sighed. “I just wish you’d told me what was going on,” I said.
Esme paused before reaching for the loose shirt Val had dressed her in. I held my breath when I realized a familiar shape was peeking over the hemline. Esme had a death mark seared over her heart. The only difference from mine was that the brand was clearly old, no longer red and shiny like a fresh wound.
“There are things I simply can’t talk about,” she finally said, her tone somber.
As quickly as my heart dropped, it jumped back up, fluttering anxiously as my mind whirled. “Do you know how to—”
“You are the spitting image of Enora,” Esme said.
I blinked, temporarily forgetting what I wanted to ask about the deat
