Read Online Whisper of Souls: A Prophecy of the Sisters Novella by Michelle Zink - Free Book Online
Authors: Michelle Zink
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the room to the wardrobe and resolving to write the last letter later in the evening. There were other things that needed attending, important things.
She removed her day gown before choosing a new one, in beautiful lilac. She put it on, the gown falling to the floor in soft folds. She relished the brush of silk against her skin as she made her way to the looking glass over the bureau.
Gazing at her reflection, she was surprised that one could look the same, day after day, no matter the circumstance. She looked exactly as she had this morning, when she had believed there were still answers to be found, courses of action left to take.
She knew now that there were not, but her melancholy was tempered with something she did not want to admit was relief. At least she had found a resolution to the pain from which there seemed no escape, pain she visited upon those she loved most through her inability to renounce the Souls. Tonight would be difficult, but thereafter, she would have peace. That was something.
She traded the amber cuff for an elaborate silver bracelet encrusted with emeralds, making sure it covered the mark on her wrist before taking one last look at herself in the glass. She was glad she had chosen the lilac gown. The girls had always loved her in it, and it was important that they remember her well.
The night was only unusual in its normalcy. Thomas’s eyes had taken on a loving shine when she entered the dining room.
“You’re a vision,” he said, raising her hand to his lips.
For the first time in many months, she felt something warm and sensuous hum under her skin at the feel of his mouth against her hand. She smiled into his eyes.
They took supper—a fine roast goose with cherry sauce—in the dining room. Adelaide insisted that the children join them rather than taking dinner early, as they often did. Thomas was lively, recounting an incident in the stables with a filly and the determined if misguided stable hand trying to break her. They laughed as he painted a picture of the young man, cursing a blue streak with one boot stuck in the stirrups and the other leg flailing wildly about as he tried to sit astride the spirited horse.
The children laughed, too. Even Alice, usually somber and calculating. Only Ginny was quiet, her eyes full of sorrow that she tried to hide behind a forced smile.
Still, it was a lovely dinner, and Adelaide ate slowly, wanting the meal to go on and on.
When at last her glass was empty of wine, she bid the children good night, promising to look in on them later. Thomas had work to do in the library, but Adelaide could see that he was torn, wanting to take advantage of her good humor. She reached up, touching the soft hair at the back of his neck, looking into his eyes.
“I’ll look in on you later as well, my love,” she promised.
He grinned then, a boyish smile that gave her a flash of memory. Thomas showing up at the door of Birchwood Manor after their meeting on Altus, saying that he could not live without her, that same grin melting her heart as it had from the first moment she saw him.
Everyone was gone when Adelaide pulled her sister into an embrace, holding her for a long moment at the bottom of the stairs. Ginny’s body, the feel and scent of her, was as familiar to Adelaide as her own. Despite their occasional arguments, their competition for the affections of their parents, their roles in the prophecy, which should have made them enemies, they had been one since the very beginning. Even now, it was Ginny who would see to her final wishes. Ginny who would care for Adelaide’s children as if they were her own.
“Good night, Ginny,” Adelaide said. “Sleep well.”
Ginny pulled away, looking into her eyes. “Addy, I—”
“Don’t,” Adelaide said gently, shaking her head. “There comes a time when each of us must do what we think best. That time has come for me, though it has not been an easy realization. Please don’t make it more
She removed her day gown before choosing a new one, in beautiful lilac. She put it on, the gown falling to the floor in soft folds. She relished the brush of silk against her skin as she made her way to the looking glass over the bureau.
Gazing at her reflection, she was surprised that one could look the same, day after day, no matter the circumstance. She looked exactly as she had this morning, when she had believed there were still answers to be found, courses of action left to take.
She knew now that there were not, but her melancholy was tempered with something she did not want to admit was relief. At least she had found a resolution to the pain from which there seemed no escape, pain she visited upon those she loved most through her inability to renounce the Souls. Tonight would be difficult, but thereafter, she would have peace. That was something.
She traded the amber cuff for an elaborate silver bracelet encrusted with emeralds, making sure it covered the mark on her wrist before taking one last look at herself in the glass. She was glad she had chosen the lilac gown. The girls had always loved her in it, and it was important that they remember her well.
The night was only unusual in its normalcy. Thomas’s eyes had taken on a loving shine when she entered the dining room.
“You’re a vision,” he said, raising her hand to his lips.
For the first time in many months, she felt something warm and sensuous hum under her skin at the feel of his mouth against her hand. She smiled into his eyes.
They took supper—a fine roast goose with cherry sauce—in the dining room. Adelaide insisted that the children join them rather than taking dinner early, as they often did. Thomas was lively, recounting an incident in the stables with a filly and the determined if misguided stable hand trying to break her. They laughed as he painted a picture of the young man, cursing a blue streak with one boot stuck in the stirrups and the other leg flailing wildly about as he tried to sit astride the spirited horse.
The children laughed, too. Even Alice, usually somber and calculating. Only Ginny was quiet, her eyes full of sorrow that she tried to hide behind a forced smile.
Still, it was a lovely dinner, and Adelaide ate slowly, wanting the meal to go on and on.
When at last her glass was empty of wine, she bid the children good night, promising to look in on them later. Thomas had work to do in the library, but Adelaide could see that he was torn, wanting to take advantage of her good humor. She reached up, touching the soft hair at the back of his neck, looking into his eyes.
“I’ll look in on you later as well, my love,” she promised.
He grinned then, a boyish smile that gave her a flash of memory. Thomas showing up at the door of Birchwood Manor after their meeting on Altus, saying that he could not live without her, that same grin melting her heart as it had from the first moment she saw him.
Everyone was gone when Adelaide pulled her sister into an embrace, holding her for a long moment at the bottom of the stairs. Ginny’s body, the feel and scent of her, was as familiar to Adelaide as her own. Despite their occasional arguments, their competition for the affections of their parents, their roles in the prophecy, which should have made them enemies, they had been one since the very beginning. Even now, it was Ginny who would see to her final wishes. Ginny who would care for Adelaide’s children as if they were her own.
“Good night, Ginny,” Adelaide said. “Sleep well.”
Ginny pulled away, looking into her eyes. “Addy, I—”
“Don’t,” Adelaide said gently, shaking her head. “There comes a time when each of us must do what we think best. That time has come for me, though it has not been an easy realization. Please don’t make it more
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