But there he is, right in front of me. Blue eyes and a smattering of freckles and those sharp features that I’d recognize no matter how many shadows cloak the room. “Oh, Corrick,” I whisper, and my breath hitches. He’s staring down at me in wonder, as if I’m the one who’s been dead all this time. My thoughts refuse to believe that he’s here, that this is real, that this is possible. “Am I dead?” I say, and my voice breaks. “No, my love.” He takes my hand, and he brings it to his face. He kisses my fingertips, then presses my palm to his cheek. “Very much alive, I promise you.”
