I carried my package to my lean-to and opened it in private. Auntie Julie had sent me some more coins, which was good because the Beet Festival had put a dent in my finances. She had also packed two scarves, one for me and one for Myth, in preparation for the upcoming winter. I thought it was sweet of Auntie to think of Myth like that.
But I was more interested in the two letters inside the package. One was Auntie Julie’s letter to me. And the other was addressed to Mythilda Larkspur.
I opened Auntie Julie’s letter and read it.
When I finished reading it, I set Auntie’s letter aside and glanced at Myth. She was over by the fire, preparing to cook our breakfast. Her back was turned towards me, so I watched her ponytail for a moment.
Then I picked up Myth’s letter and stared at her name. This is it, I told myself. It’s time to tell Myth what I did. I hope she will forgive me.
I sighed. Taking Myth’s letter, I left my lean-to, walked over to Myth, and tapped her on the shoulder. “Myth, can we talk?”
“Sure, Izzy,” said Myth, turning to face me. She took one look at me and then gasped. “What’s the matter, Iz?” Placing the palm of her hand on my forehead, Myth asked me, “Are you sick? You look so pale.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not sick. But… I did something. And you’re going to be mad at me.”
Myth laughed. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“You just will be—I know it,” I replied, hanging my head. “But promise me that you’ll let me explain why I did what I did before you shout at me.”
“Okay, Izzy,” said Myth. “I promise. So talk to me.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, when I sent my last parcel to Auntie Julie… We were still in the Holding Moonlit. And we had just spent a day at that lake. Do you remember that?”
Myth nodded her head.
“There were two letters in the parcel I sent to Auntie Julie. One was for Auntie, of course. And the other letter… Well, I sent a letter to your parents, Myth.”
“What!” Myth shouted. She began to pace back and forth, her hands clenched into fists. “Why would you do that? You know what could happen if Lord Fal—Oh gods, Izzy!”
“Please, let me finish,” I said, hunching my shoulders—Myth was so upset with me. “Then you can shout at me.”
Myth huffed. Her arms were trembling. “Okay. But this better be good.”
I wiped a tear from my eye. “We talked about our families at that lake, remember?”
Myth nodded her head, scowling at me.
“You looked so sad—so homesick,” I went on. “I wanted to help you communicate with your parents so much. So I wrote them a letter. And I asked Auntie to send it to them—but only if she was absolutely certain that it would reach them safely.”
I glanced at Myth’s letter. “Auntie made some inquiries. And she learned something about Lord Falkirk. She mentioned in her letter that it involved women’s undergarments, but she didn’t elaborate. Auntie was certain that she could ruin his reputation if he tried to hurt your parents. And reputation means everything to nobles. So Auntie sent my letter to your parents.”
I looked at Myth’s letter again. “And they wrote back to her. According to Auntie, they were overjoyed to hear about you. Your parents also sent another letter to Auntie—a letter addressed to you. Auntie included it in the package that just arrived for me.”
“Y-you have a letter from my parents?” said Myth, her voice quavering.
“Yes,” I said, placing her letter in Myth’s hand.
Wide-eyed and gape-mouthed, Myth stared at the letter—the first contact she had had with her parents in months. “You took a big risk, Iz.”
“I know,” I replied. “You have every right to be mad at me. But I’m not sorry, because now you can write to your parents and they can write to you.”
Myth wandered off to read her letter in private.
I stayed where I was, watching her the whole time.
Myth sat on a rock not too far from me. She opened her letter. But she did not read it straightaway. Instead, she raised the letter to her nose and sniffed it, savoring the familiar scents of her home that lingered upon the parchment. Then she read her letter, wiping her eyes frequently as she did so. Once she finished reading it, Myth pressed the letter to her lips and kissed it.
“I miss you, too, Mom and Dad,” Myth said quietly.
Then she stood up and walked over to me, her letter still in her hand.
“Are you mad at me?” I asked her timidly.
In response, Myth wrapped her arms around me and held me close.
This was not a short, happy hug either, Buster. No, it was a long hug—one that went on and on. I rested my head against Myth, at that spot below her collarbone but above her chest. And I just reveled in being held in her arms. I wanted to stay like that forever—hugging for all eternity.
But our hug had to end eventually. As we pulled away from one another, I noticed that Myth was blushing and that tears were in her blue eyes.
Myth brushed that strand of hair off her forehead. She sighed. “You should have asked me if it was okay to send that letter, Izzy. They’re my parents, and that decision should have been mine to make.”
“I know,” I replied.
Myth glanced at her letter. “But I would’ve said that it was too risky. And I needed this, Iz. I really needed to hear from my parents. So no, I’m not mad. Thank you, Izzy. Thank you.”
Myth hugged me again, saying as she did, “Mom says that your letter was adorable, by the way.”