Page 5 of Firefly

A shudder stole through her as the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. A foretelling feeling that something was coming. Change.

Her premonitions were never wrong. This one told her that her life was soon to be altered—and not for the better. Her health had been slowly deteriorating, and thanks to her father’s ministrations, the drain seemed to be hastening her demise.

The doctors had told her she was dying. A rare illness that had no cure. They could not say when she would die, only that it would be before her time. And that it may come suddenly.

True to their word, each month, she felt as though she had aged a decade. At twenty-three, she felt closer to sixty, but just one year prior, she’d felt as though she were in her thirties, and the year before that, she’d nearly felt invincible. It was as though being told she would die had signaled her body to start the process of deterioration.

She could only imagine what she might feel like another year from now—if she were still alive.

Rebecca exhaled sharply, watching one dark curl fly from her face and hover just overhead. It hung suspended in midair as she watched it, smiling.

She lifted a hand, caressing the breeze that sometimes accompanied her, and let the curl slide over her finger. Something in her chest buzzed in response, and she sighed, settling into her blankets.

Light streaked across her room as her door silently cracked open. She held her breath and closed her eyes.

Goosebumps pebbled her skin as the presence of something other entered the room. She’d felt it before when Simon crowded her space, and it left her feeling uneasy, but she couldn’t place it.

Forcing her breathing to even out, she lay still, inhaling his lavender scent.

He was close, close enough that his soft scent overwhelmed her, but she let her lashes rest gently on her cheeks as she remained still.

Soft lips caressed her cheek, and she froze, breath catching in her throat. He was still there, hovering just over her, and she was sure he must know she was awake.

Another moment passed, and just as she was about to fling open her eyes, Sarah mumbled something in her sleep. His overwhelming presence moved, stepping back. He was silent. A wraith. But she knew when he left the room, could feel the moment he was gone.

Waiting several seconds, she exhaled a slow breath as her eyes fluttered open, darting around the room.

She peeked down at Sarah once more, whispering her thanks to the tiny cherub before kissing her again.

Blinking several times, her gaze fell on something glinting in the moonlight.

She got up, treading softly to the bookcase in the corner of the room, where she found a small ring and a note folded under it.

She tore the note open, reading:

Rebecca,

I owe you so much more than a letter of apology for my absence, and I long for the night when I’ll be able to tell you these things in person. Please know I’ve thought of you, longed for you, and wished for nothing more than you by my side these many months.

As you know, my obligation to the army could only be broken by death or severe injury. Let me say only this on the subject. Your father found a way around both.

Though I dream of you and you alone, please understand that my debt to him is heavy. I could not ask you to bear this weight beside me, so I will keep my distance.

You deserve a lifetime of happiness with a man who can give you everything your heart desires.

Once, I believed myself capable of being that man. I see now it was never meant to be. I can only hope to one day regain your friendship and your trust.

With love,

Simon

Rebecca swiped at the hot tear streaking down her face and crumpled the letter, tossing it to the floor. She stalked to the door, threw it wide, and marched out into the hall.

A cool breeze caressed her cheek, urging her back under her covers. She ignored it, storming down the stairs.

She paused in the now-dark kitchen, listening for any sound that might give him away. When she was sure the room was empty, she left, trailing down the hall of windows to the set of rooms at the back of the house, and stopped in her father’s study. It was empty, apart from stacks of journals balancing precariously atop one another.

Marching past the laundry room, her sister’s old studio, and a guest bedroom, she stepped into the servant’s wing and ran her hand along the wall, finding a switch and flipping it on. Dim yellow bulbs flared to life, illuminating the space every few feet in a soft yellow glow.

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