They loved me. They thanked me.
And it layered me with shame and ultimately pride.
Pride for breaking tradition.
Pride for keeping my oath.
They’d died.
I hadn’t.
I lived.
I found Jethro outside.
The sun had long ago set and winter chill howled over the manicured gardens, lamenting around the turrets and edges of Hawksridge Hall.
I’d had the foresight to grab warmer clothes before embarking on finding fresh air and huddled deeper into my jacket, letting the sling take the weight of my cast. Tugging the faux fur of my hood around my ears, I wished I’d brought gloves for my rapidly frost-bitten fingers.
Jethro looked up as my sheepskin-lined boots crunched across the gravel and skirted the boxed hedgerow. Wings and Moth stood in the distance, blotting the horizon, cloaked in blankets.
As I’d made my way through the Hall, I’d seen silhouettes of people outside. I’d recognised Jethro’s form. I wanted to join them—be around real people after dusty apparitions.
And now, I’d not only found Jethro but everyone I loved and cared for.
On the large expanse of lawn stood my new family. Jasmine, Vaughn, Jethro, and Tex. They all stood around a mountainous pile of branches, interspersed with the Ducking Stool and Iron Chair and other items I never wanted to see again.
Ducking my head into the breeze, I patrolled over the grass. My hood whipped back, and I caught the eye of Jasmine.
She gave me a smile, holding out her hand.
I took it.
Her fingers were popsicles, but she squeezed mine as I bent over and kissed her cheek. We didn’t need to talk. We understood. She’d lost her brothers and father. I’d lost my mother. Together, we would stand and not buckle beneath the tears.
In the distance, the south gardens glittered with rapidly forming dew-frost, glittering like nature’s diamonds on leaves and blades of grass.
Jethro skirted the large tinderbox of firewood, pausing beside his sister with a large log in his hands. His eyes glowed in the darkness, his lips hiding white teeth. “I won’t ask what happened. And I won’t pry unless you want to share. But I built this for them. For you. For what lives in that room.”
He dropped his gaze, awkwardly stroking the log. “I don’t know if you’ll want to say goodbye this way, but I just thought—” He shrugged. “I thought I’d make a fire, just in case.”
I didn’t say a word.
I let go of Jasmine, flew around her chair, and slammed into his arms.
He dropped the wood and embraced me tightly. I didn’t care my brother and father watched. All I cared about was thanking this man. This Hawk. Because now he’d let himself be the person I always knew he could be, I couldn’t stop falling more and more in love with him.
His lips warmed my frozen ear, kissing me sweetly. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, nuzzling closer, inhaling the pine sap and earthy tones from collecting firewood. “I’m better.” I gathered my thoughts before whispering, “When you left me in there, I couldn’t move. I truly didn’t like you very much. But you were right. Thank you for giving me that time. For knowing what I needed, even when I didn’t.”
He hugged me harder. “Anything for you, you know that.”
I shivered as another howl swept over the treetops. The night would be bitterly cold, but soon there would be something to warm us.
Pulling away, I smiled at my twin standing with his arms crossed and a bitter look on his face. Eventually, I would have to talk to him and tell him Jethro would be his brother-in-law. He would have to accept him. Tex, too.
I asked far more than they could offer—to love the son of the man who’d stolen Tex’s wife and our mother—but that was life.
The heart had the incredible capacity to heal wrongs. And I wouldn’t apologise for betraying my family name with Jethro. I’d chosen him. And if they couldn’t accept that…well, I didn’t want to think about it. Not tonight.
Jethro tucked flying hair behind my ears and pulled up my hood. “Are you ready?”
I rested my face in his palm, reaching on tiptoes to kiss his wind-bitten lips. “I’m ready.”
Taking my hand, he kissed my knuckles. “In that case, let’s put the past behind us.”
It took us an hour and a half to lug the boxes from upstairs to the bonfire outside.
We formed an assembly line, a never-ending factory of willing hands to transport.
Jethro joined me in the room, respectfully gathering files and packing them into boxes. I’d left the space in a mess, but together, we created neat piles so Vaughn and Tex could carry them downstairs.
Jasmine stayed on the lawn, willingly accepting the items on her lap and wheeling them across the grass to the unlit bonfire.
The last box to go down was full of my mother’s time at the Hall. I blinked back tears as I handed it awkwardly to my father.
He knew with one look what the paperwork entailed. His face echoed with heartbreak as he cradled the heavy package and took it downstairs himself. He didn’t transfer it to Vaughn. He didn’t let go. Hugging his wife’s spirit one last time.
Once he’d gone, and the room stood empty, Jethro popped into the corridor and spoke to V.
“Can you give us a minute?”
Vaughn looked past him, his black eyes meeting mine. “You okay, Threads?”
I came forward, my heart beating faster. “I’m okay. I’ll see you down there.” I gave him a half-smile. “Don’t start without us.”
He scowled. “You know I wouldn’t.”
I sighed. We had a long way to go to be able to joke with one another again without a filament of mistrust and pain cloaking everything. “I know, V. Stupid joke.” Brushing past Jethro, I gathered my twin in my arms.
He buckled, his spine rolling and strong arms wrapping around me. He shuddered as we stood there and squeezed. The past ten days had been good for us. We’d spent time together, skirting true issues, but I had a feeling after tonight, we’d have nothing keeping us apart and could finally talk through the events and find our closeness once again.
Letting me go, he smiled. He’d let a slight beard creep over his chin, dark and rich, making him seem exotic and untameable. “Love you, Threads.”
“Love you more.” I patted his chest. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Vaughn nodded and disappeared down the staircase. Once he’d gone, I entered the room and waited while Jethro silently closed the door.
My heart went from fast paced to flurrying. “What are you doing?”
Jethro grimaced, striding to a filing cabinet and shoving it to the side. “There’s one more box you haven’t seen. One I hid.”
I ghosted forward. “You hid it? Why?”
Dropping to his knees, he ran his fingernails around a wooden panel in the wainscoting. Popping open a hidden compartment, he shuffled back to pull out a dust-smeared box. This one didn’t match the other drab brown ones. This one was white and narrow with the initials E.W. on top.
My heart flew into my throat.
Jethro stood up, supporting the box and swatting at dust motes on his jeans. “I hid it because I was asked to by someone I cared about.”
Moving toward the table, he placed the offering in the centre. “She asked me to give this to you. She knew I’d come for you once she was gone, but she also knew I was different.”
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my eyes off the carton. “Different?”
“She caught me one day. She caught me before I had the chance to have another lesson. She didn’t fully understand what I was, but she guessed enough that it made her trust me. I wanted to tell her not to be so stupid. I was still my father’s son. But she didn’t give me a choice.
“She told me I would fall in love with you. She told me you would win. She also told me that if I let you help me, everything could be different.”
A tear glassed my vision then spilled over. Tal
king about my mother, learning new memories I didn’t share was wondrous as well as bittersweet.
I didn’t notice I’d moved forward until my fingers traced her initials. “She told you all of that?”
Jethro chuckled quietly. “She told me a lot of things. She also told Kes. I think she preferred him over me—he was the one everyone fell in love with—but she trusted us with different tasks.”
I finally met his eyes, tearing mine from the box. “What did she make you do?”
Jethro nodded at the table. “She wanted me to keep this safe for you. She said one day, I would find the right time to give this to you. And when I did, she hoped it meant things hadn’t gone the way they had for her. That you’d won.
“At the time, I almost hated her for being so cocky and sure. I hated I’d come across weak enough that she dare predict my future. But at the same time, I loved her for seeing things in me I hadn’t even permitted myself to see. I loved she thought I was worthy of your love. I loved that she wanted me to take you because, ultimately, she knew I’d lose and you’d win and together we’d fight.”
I struggled to breathe as more tears joined the first. I wanted to ask so many questions. I wanted Jethro to regale me of every time he’d conversed with my mother. I wanted to hoard his memories as my own and build a picture of her strength after she’d been taken from us.
But I didn’t want to rush something so precious. Another time. Another night. When people weren’t waiting to say goodbye.
Sucking in a breath, I asked quietly, “And Kes? What was his task?”
Jethro’s face tightened with pain. “You already know. He completed his promise within days of you being with us.” His eyes narrowed, willing me to recall.
What had Kes done apart from taking me into his quarters? He’d given me sketching paper. Become my friend. Laughed with me. Entertained me and granted normalcy while I swam in bewilderment.
“He was to become my friend.”
Jethro nodded. “Your mother knew no one could replace Vaughn. You’d grown up together. You loved each other so much. But she also knew not having that connection would be one of the hardest things you’d have to face. So she asked Kes to be your brother while your true one couldn’t be there.”
My stomach knotted as I wrapped arms around myself. Kes’s friendship had been invaluable, but now, it’d become priceless knowing every touch and joke had come out of respect for my mother.
In a way, it could’ve cheapened Kes’s kindness to me—knowing he’d been asked to do so—but I didn’t see it that way. I saw it as a selfless deed, and I was confident enough in our mutual affection that he hadn’t just done it for Emma. He’d done it for himself, for whatever bond blossomed between us.
Jethro came closer, moving behind me to envelop me in a hug. My back fell into his chest, my head tilting to the side for his kisses to land on my neck. “She also asked him to give you the Weaver Journal. I knew you thought that was a tool for my family to spy on your thoughts. That we were the ones to create such a tradition. But we didn’t.”
His lips trailed lovingly over my collar to my ear. “That was a Weaver secret and at least one Hawk in every generation kept it hidden. Kes was tasked to give it to you. But he wasn’t asked to tell you why he’d given it. It was yours to do what you wanted—write in it or not. Read it or ignore it. The choice was yours.”
How could I learn so much in such a few short sentences? How could I fall in love with the dead even more than when they were alive?
Spinning in Jethro’s hold, I pressed my face against his chest. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me.”
His embrace tightened. “Thank you for making your mother’s premonitions come true.”
We stood still for so many heartbeats, thanking the dead, reliving the secrets, rejoicing in the rightful end.
Finally, Jethro let me go. “Open it. And then we’ll join the others.”
I looked at the box. The air around it seemed to throb with welcome, begging me to look inside.
Jethro shuffled, moving toward the door.
I held out my hand. “Wait. Don’t go.”
He halted. “You don’t want to be on your own?”
“No.” Shaking my head, I smiled. “I want you beside me. She would want you to be here.”
Biting his lip, he returned to my side.
Wordlessly, I pulled the box closer and slid off the lid.
A puff of lint flurried with the opening pressure, scattering onto the table-top. My heart stopped beating as I reached into the tiny coffin of memories and pulled out the letter sitting on top.
“It’s addressed to me.”
Jethro looped an arm around my waist, trembling with everything I felt.
The confusion.
The hope.
The sadness.
The happiness at hearing from her one last time.
“Open it.”
The glue on the envelope had weathered and unstuck, gaping open as I turned it over and fumbled with my sling to pull forth the note.
Dear my sweetest daughter,
I’ve promised myself I would write this letter so many times, and every time I begin, I stop.
There is so much to say. My mind runs wild with guidelines and tips for all things you are yet to enjoy. First love, first heartbreak, first baby. I’ll never get to see those things. Never see you grow into a woman or enjoy motherhood.
And that upsets me, but I know I’ll be proud of the woman you became because you’re part of me, and through you, I shall remain alive, no matter what happens to my mortal body.
There might also be a chance you won’t achieve what I hope you will. That you’ll fall to the guillotine like me. That we’ll meet far too young in heaven.
But I’m not thinking those thoughts.
If you live at Hawksridge while Cut is still in power, remember two things. That man is violent, unpredictable, and cruel. But beneath it, he can be manipulated. A man who has everything has nothing if he doesn’t have love. And he’s never had love. I pretended to give him that. I hoped my false affection could prevent my end, but I didn’t have it in me to love him true. I love your father. I can never love Cut while I have Arch in my heart.
And that was my downfall.
Anyway…
Before I prattle on about nothing, I have to tell you two things. I’ve hoarded these confessions for far too long.
First, I need to tell you about your grandmother.
I know by now you will have seen the graves on the Hawk’s moor. You’ll have seen her name on a tombstone. But what you won’t know is…that grave is empty.
Like you, I believed she died at the hand of Bonnie’s husband.
But that was before Cut told me the truth.
He viewed his father as weak because that was what Bonnie fed him. However, I see Alfred Hawk as one of the bravest men. He succumbed to tradition and claimed my mother. He completed the first two debts, but his affection for her—the love he could never give Bonnie—meant he couldn’t attach the collar or kill her.
So he did the only thing he could.
He pretended to end the Debt Inheritance. He buried a fake corpse and set her free. He gave her a second chance but with the strictest of conditions: never contact her Weaver family again—for her sake and his.
She kept that promise for many years. I grew up believing she’d died. However, one night, I received a phone call from Italy. She was alive, Nila. She’d watched me from afar, celebrated when I had my children, and lamented when I was claimed. She would’ve fought for me—I know that. But she died before she could.
Now…Nila…this is the hardest part to write. The second secret I’ve kept my entire life, and I honestly don’t know how to tell you. There are no easy words, so I’ll just have to swallow my tears, beg you to understand, and hope you can forgive me.
My children.
I loved you. All of you. So, so much.
I let my fear get the better of me just befor
e they took me. I begged your father to hide you. But we both knew this was our only chance. Arch didn’t want to go ahead with my plan. Don’t hate him, Nila. It was me. All me. I take full blame, and even though I’m dead and you can’t berate me, know I died with regret and hope.
I regret you living in my path, but I’m full of hope you’ll achieve what I couldn’t.
I always thought a letter like this would be long and full of tears, but I know now (after so many failed attempts) that I can’t over think this. I can’t write everything I want to say because everything important you already know.
You know I love you.
You know I’ll always watch over you.
And I know when Jet comes to collect you, you’ll win. You’ll win, darling daughter, because you’re so much more than I ever was. You’re the strongest, bravest, most brilliant daughter I could ever ask for, and that’s why I sacrificed you.
Does that confuse you?
Does that make you hate me?
If it does, then I won’t ask for your forgiveness. But know I believed with all my heart you had the potential to do what I couldn’t. I chose you over her—over Jacqueline.
I made that decision. Right or wrong. I’ll never know.
After watching you grow up, I just know you have the power to end this. And it was a risk I was willing to pay. You were the one I pinned all my hopes on. You were the one to save us all.
I love you, Nila, Threads, my precious, precious daughter.
Forgive me or not, I’ll never stop caring for you, never stop watching.
Please, try to understand.
I gambled both our lives to save so many more.
Thank you for being so brave.
Love,
Your mother.
JACQUELINE?
Who the motherfucking hell is Jacqueline?
Nila dropped the letter. “What does she mean? She sacrificed me?” Her emotions swelled in one huge wave of question marks. “What does that mean?!”
Jacqueline.
Jacqueline.
Who the fuck is Jacqueline?
Snapping out of my trance, I pulled Nila away from the table, the box, the condemning note. “Nila, it’s okay. Don’t—”