Corin The next morning began with a soft knock. The curtains had already been pulled aside by a silent servant, so the room was filled with the pale strength of winter sunlight. Not long after, the door opened again, but this time I did not hear Mason’s heavy steps. A thinner, more uncertain figure appeared in the doorway. “Corin?” At the sound of her voice, tears began to pulse in my throat. It was my mother. She looked much better than on the night we fled. Her hair had been washed and tied back. She wore a clean, soft wool dress, and although her face was still pale, it no longer showed that deadly exhaustion. “Mother!” I tried to sit up, but my back protested immediately. She hurried to the bed and hugged me as carefully as if I were made of porcelain. For several minutes we said nothing, only held onto each other. I could smell unfamiliar soap on her skin, and the relief pouring out of her felt like warmth. “You are alive. Thank God you are alive,” she whispered int
Last Updated : 2026-02-18 Read more