Mrs. Fletcher’s confusion grows.
I turn to her, opening my arms for an embrace. “Perhaps I will be able to visit occasionally,” I say, glancing at Brahm to see if there’s a chance. When he nods, I turn back to Mrs. Fletcher. “Unless you’re going to leave Kellington?”
Stepping in to hug me, she eyes Brahm with suspicion. “We’ll stay. For now, at least.”
“I’m glad I got to see you,” I say as she squeezes her arms around me.
“Take care of yourself,” she whispers. “The Fae can’t be trusted.”
“I’ll be careful,” I promise.
Fifteen minutes later, I look out the carriage window, waving to Mrs. and Mr. Fletcher as the horses cut through the already melting snow.
And then we’re exiting the drive, and I feel as if I’m leaving my childhood behind—this time, for good.