The wind whipped the pages in her hands as Grace stood on the west turret, the familiar handwriting of her sister no longer sending spikes of fear through her heart.
Dearest Fair Lily—
I worried that you would not know where to find me, but you are truly magic. Living with Aunt Beth is rather nice. I found a kitten in the garden, and she let me keep her. She has a saucer of milk each night and sleeps on my pillow. Aunt Beth says I can visit Mother on the seaside if I would like, but I think sand is itchy. She says that Father is gone and I will not see him, even at the beach. I am sad, but I pet my kitten at night and she purrs. I look for your letters and I know I am not alone.
Write Back—
Alice
P.S.—My kitty’s name is Grace.
Grace’s mouth twisted into a sad kind of smile as she moved on to Falsteed’s letter.
Dearest Grace—
You’ll see by the enclosure that your sister is in the best of care, and that you are remembered. It may not surprise you to learn that I have a new neighbor here in the darkness. He had words with Heedson and your name came up, earning him a spot among the forgotten. I do not regret to inform you that he has a certain smell about him, one that my nose treasures above all others. I haven’t told him yet, as he seems to be under some stress. Someday I’d love to see your shining face again, and learn how this gift was delivered to me.
Yours—
Falsteed
“Grace!” The trapdoor flew upward, Thornhollow emerging from the stairwell. “I thought I might find you up here,” he said, catching his breath. “Janey was half-frantic searching the grounds for you, when I remembered that you’d never returned the turret key to me.”
“You never asked for it,” Grace said.
“Good news?” he asked, gesturing toward the pages in her hand.
“Yes.” She smiled. “All.”
“Excellent!” He smacked his hands together. “Now, I’ll have to tear you away from happiness and this stunning view to come to a murder with me.”
“Of course,” Grace said, folding her letters. “Give me one moment?”
“A moment only,” he said as he descended the stairs, his voice floating in his wake. “There’s fresh blood spilling, Grace. And we must see which way it flows!”
Grace shook her head at his words, glancing down as she put the folded letters in her pocket to see a note scratched on the back of Falsteed’s.
One more word, if I may. The original meaning of the word asylum is, in fact, “protection.” I hope you have found it to be so in your bright surroundings, as I have found my own niche here in the dark.
Grace leaned against the railing, her gaze taking in the rolling grounds, Elizabeth’s silhouette by the lake, Thornhollow’s carriage rolling to a stop in the roundabout, and Nell’s empty chair beside her.
“Indeed I have,” she said, her scars flashing brightly in the sun. “I am Grace Mae, and I have come home.”