Eleanor propped herself up on her elbows. The sun rays filtered in through the drapes that moved with the slow wind of past rain. Her eyes fell on Conaan.

He was lying on his side, curled up, his eyes closed, his breaths low. Last night had to be the longest night of her life, and she swallowed, leaning to him.

His eyes were swollen and reddened, his hair falling in front of his face. The letter was still clutched in his fingers. Her fingers slowly moved his hair away, then dropped to gently caress just under his eyes. They most definitely sting, and she wondered how to break it to...