Page 94 of The Last Remaining Light

Hearthmere, 755 A.V.

The courier arrived at the start of a storm. Abbey bells tolled through the rising wind while rain lashed against the sea walls above.

Caelyn stood knee-deep in the exposed lower resonance chamber, repairing conduit fractures, when movement across the courtyard caught his attention.

Sister Maelin hurried through the weather with her cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders, protecting herself as best she could from the chill and rain. Tucked carefully beneath her arm was a folded parchment sealed in a violet-blue wax he recognized.

Elowynn.

His pulse stumbled once. Twice.

Caelyn straightened from the exposed conduit with a wince, wiping oil and resonance dust from his hands onto an already ruined cloth. Maelin reached him beneath the stone archway and held it out.

"Courier just arrived," she said, though the knowing smile already tugging at her mouth suggested she knew precisely who it was from. "I don't even have to read the seal anymore."

Caelyn frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing at all." She held out the letter. "Only that you become quite easy to read whenever Lady Elowynn writes."

He accepted the letter with an eagerness he tried to conceal, but as Sister Agatha had pointed out more than once, he was hopeless.

His green eyes drank in the familiar wax seal, and his heart answered with a heavy, eager rhythm. Even the simple sight of the emblem she always pressed into the wax kindled something warm inside his chest.

Hope.

He had not seen her in nearly six turnings. Only through parchment, ink, and memory. Only in her stories and in his dreams. It had become worse with time instead of easier.

Maelin’s expression eased into one with knowing as she watched him. “She enclosed dried frostbloom petals this time.”

Of course she did.

Because Elowynn liked her parchment scenting of florals. He had begun to wonder if it was how she smelled now, or if she still smelled of parchment, ink, and herbs.

He swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

Maelin studied him for a long moment as he stared at the letter, unmoving. “Sister Agatha said she asks about you in every letter,” she offered in a reassuring tone.

That made his heart squeeze painfully.

Sister Maelin turned to go, leaving him standing beneath the corridor. Only the sound of the rain and rolling thunder could be heard beyond the pounding of his heart.

Caelyn stared at the letter for several more moments before finally breaking the seal.

The first thing he noticed was the fragrant scent of the blooms Elowynn had enclosed; they overpowered the usual traces of parchment and ink.

The second—

Korvel Thorne.

The name appeared midway through the letter, and Caelyn had the sudden problem of not being able to breathe correctly anymore.

His eyes moved over the lines again. And again. And again.

The Frostfall Gala.

Invitation accepted.

Council attendance.