by Alex Archer
She pulled over onto the side of the road.
Annja turned the envelope over in her hands a couple of times, running a thumb over Roux’s name. Whoever had written this had expected him to find it. But had they expected anyone else to read it? She felt strange teasing the single sheet of paper out. Her heart beat a little faster than it should as she opened it and started to read.
My dearest Roux,
Yes, you still are, after all this time, after all these years and all the silences.
If you are reading this it is almost certain that you have returned to remove the treasure you have entrusted to my care, but that you have not come to see me. After so long apart, I suppose that pride has come in the way of you getting in touch, but I hope that once you find this you will come and seek me out.
Over the past few years I have seen a change in you. Every time you have come you have insisted on trying on the cloak and I have watched as you have disappeared before my eyes. Each time you kept it on a little longer, each time you emerged a little different. The mantle was turning you into something different, I am sure of it—someone I was growing to like less even if I never stopped loving you—but when I told you this you would not listen.
To begin with, it was the cloak that brought us together, but eventually it was the cloak that tore us apart.
I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.
After our argument, I knew that you would be unable to resist its call, that you would return to wear it one last time, and then spirit it away. Once that happened I knew there would be no hope of reconciliation. I still think about seeing you again. But not if you claimed the cloak. I couldn’t bear to see what it would finally turn you into, dear Roux.
So in my anger and my sorrow, I turned to my brother and told him about the miraculous treasure and what it had done to us. I do not believe that he will tell anyone about it, but I cannot dismiss the possibility. I am sorry that I have broken your trust. You deserve better than that. But no one shall find it. I know the trouble it can cause in the heart of even the best of men, so I have moved the cloak to a new hiding place where it will be safe from the world and where you will be safe from it. It is better that way.
I will always love you, believe me, always and into death, because you are the owner of my heart.
Anna Llewellyn
There was no date on the letter, no indication of how long ago it had been written, or how many years it had lain waiting to be found. What it did was cast light on a part of Roux’s life she’d never known existed and explained how he was aware that Awena was being influenced by Gerald’s sword and why he was so desperate she shouldn’t be hurt.
Annja read it again.
She didn’t think less of him.
In fact, it made him more human and she loved him for it.
That was the thing about baring your soul; people loved you for your weaknesses, not despite them. She put the letter back in the envelope and the envelope back into the glove box, then fired up the engine.
The road and her old hire car waited for her.
She cranked up the radio as an old Alarm song came on: the lead singer imploring to give him love, hope and strength. It wasn’t a bad message to take into the last few days of her vacation. She’d call Doug Morrell when she reached the hotel, not that he’d believe a word she had to say if she started trying to explain what had happened to her. Scratch that, he’d have her turn around and go looking for the mantle.
After reading Roux’s letter, that was the last thing she wanted to do.
Some secrets were best left hidden, some treasures best left lost.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460339008
Celtic Fire
Special thanks and acknowledgment to Steven Savile for his contribution to this work.
Copyright © 2014 by Worldwide Library
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