“A compass.” Not only a compass… Painted across its face were crimson tentacles, encroaching in from the edges, and at its north point was a tiny key. On the inside of the lid, etched letters glinted, and he had to turn it to the light to read. Always. It was the most exquisite compass he’d ever seen. She’d clearly had it made for him. His nose prickled and the warmth filling his chest was overwhelming.
