Hollis

“Come in?” Candace calls hesitantly through the door of one of the lesser guest rooms.

I breathe in a sharp breath. I can smell her even through the door, blackberries and sunshine. Knocking—rather than just tearing down the door like I wanted to the second Lord Gunnar told Father about the additional guest in the Dun’s Crossing party—was almost impossible. Now that I’m here, opening the door almost seems harder. Three weeks apart. The longest three weeks of my fucking life. And now she’s just on the other side of a heavy wooden door, close enough that I can hear her moving on the other side. It’s too good...