She opened the letter. Pressed it flat. That writing—it had to be Malini’s. It was too graceful to be anyone else’s. She wrote of garlands. Of Mani Ara, and her river. And other tales of yaksa and mortals. “I didn’t tell her these,” Priya whispered. Which meant that at some point, Malini had read the Birch Bark Mantras. Had she learned the tales for Priya’s sake? Priya couldn’t write back. She knew it. Whatever subtle means Malini had used to deliver this to her—and spirits, she hoped they had been subtle, for Malini’s sake—there was no way Priya should write to her in return. But somehow she
...more
OBSESSED
Briget Colina liked this
