The afternoon light was grey and cold, filtering through the high windows of the library in pale, watery stripes. I sat in my usual chair by the fire, a book open in my lap, but I had not turned a page in over an hour. My mind was elsewhere, fixed on the weight of secrets I could not share, on the fear that gnawed at my heart, on the words that would not come.
I did not hear her approach.
"Rosalind."
Elara's voice was soft, warm, and concerned. I looked up to find her standing in the doorway, her warm brown eyes fixed on me, her brow furrowed. She crossed the room, sitting in the chair across from me, her hands folded in her lap.
"You've been avoiding me," she said.
I shook my head. "I haven't been avoiding you. I've been busy."
"You've been hiding." She leaned forward, her eyes searching my face. "I know you, Rosalind. Something is wrong. What is it?"
