Page 54

When I glance at Freya again, I see she’s already halfway out the door.

“Who is it?” I ask, voice straining in the most pathetic way, hoping that even if she doesn’t want to give me the name, she can at least provide some kind of hint. “Who does Arthur Blackstone pine for? Who is this one person he can’t claim or control or—”

Freya steps into the hall. Turning to face me, she says, “You ask too many questions. But you are a smart and clever girl, Natasha. In time, I am sure you will figure it out.”

26

I desperately need to speak to Braxton, to share everything that’s unfolded in the short span since I last saw him. But with my meeting with Killian imminent, I don’t have time to stop by his room. So, I jot off a quick message instead.

Me:The Moon Garden in an hour?

I stare at my slab, waiting for a response that doesn’t arrive.

Shit.

Anxiety bubbles within me, my leg restless and bouncing, fingers twitching. I sift through Freya’s words, dissecting everything that was said and everything that was deliberately left unsaid.

Who the hell does Arthur Blackstone love so much that he’s resorted to this?

Is it some sort of Gatsby-esque attempt to dazzle and impress? But no, nothing about that feels right. There’s a deeper motive at play, something more that I’m unable to grasp.

I glance at my slab once again—still no reply. Then, remembering the note from my dad is still waiting to be read, I retrieve it from the backpack. With a slight quiver in my hands, I gently unfold the paper, eager to read the message he penned.

Dearest Natasha,

I pause on my name, lightly tracing my index finger over the letters. Just the sight of his familiar scrawl has me completely choked up.

In case you’re wondering, I’m writing this while you’re experiencing an Unraveling. I hope that will explain why my words may come off as rushed. Though my hope is, that even when my words somehow fail me, you will still find in this letter all the love and support I intended.

To say your visit caught me by surprise isn’t entirely accurate. The truth is, some deeper part of me recognized you from the moment I saw you. Like I said, something about your presence felt eerily familiar and right. Almost as though we’d met like that before. And who knows, maybe we have?

While I’m sorry that our time together always seems to be cut tragically short, I want you to know that I’m thankful for every last second I got to spend with you. Because you, Natasha Antoinette Clarke, are the sole source of my pride, my greatest accomplishment, the thing I’m most proud of in this life I’ve been given.

To put it more succinctly, I am exceedingly proud to call you my daughter.

Although there is still so much more I want to tell you, share with you, I will leave you with this quote from the poem “Eternity”by William Blake:

He who binds himself to a joy

Does the winged life destroy

But he who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity’s sun rise

I will cherish this time that we’ve shared, knowing that whatever challenges you may face along the way, you will find the strength and wisdom within you to rise up and vanquish them all.

With all my love,

Dad

Tears stream down my face as I reach the end, silent sobs wracking my shoulders and burning my throat. In this moment, a seed has been planted—a fierce determination begins to take root.

Why should I worry about altering the course of personal events, when Arthur aims to remake the world?

Why shouldn’t I at least try to do whatever is in my power to spare my dad from such a cruel fate?

With newfound resolve, I quickly dry my tears and tuck my dad’s letter away with the one from my mom. Then, casting a final, steadying glance at my reflection, I pull my Gray Wolf tote bag onto my shoulder and head out the door, on my way to meet Killian at the Hideaway Tavern.