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BY THE TIME—the last child had left the classroom, the distant silence that settled almost left a ringing in Nora's ear. Strings of sunlight peeked through the shutters along the walls, adorning the rows of wooden desks and grey chairs in a soft, yellow glow. The muffled sounds of small voices and loud feet outside coaxed a grin on her face as she closed her laptop on the desk and packed away her notes.
"You're getting better," came the honeyed voice of Miss Tatum from the other side of the room. She watched Nora with tired eyes of gentle pride and strong fondness. As she approached the front desk, the dark purple skirt of her dress swayed by her ankles where bright red pumps clicked against the hardwood floor. "Your confidence is growing, and your lessons are a lot easier to follow."
Nora slid her laptop into its case with a bashful grin. "They're smart kids, Mary."
"Yes, I suppose that helps," Miss Tatum replied, flicking a wisp of silver hair from her eyes. It was strange to Nora how, despite her mentor's coming years, she managed to maintain a certain youthful flame behind those grey eyes. "Though, I think they'd argue that having a good teacher certainly goes a long way."
"Assistant teacher." Nora raised her eyebrows. "Don't you forget that."
"Two more years until that changes."
She grinned. "If I make it out of college alive."
At that, Miss Tatum gave her a wide look that Nora had seen one too many times. A look that seemed to say What do you put in your coffee? Then—as if the conversation had completely evaporated—she jumped. "Oh, I have something for you, by the way."
Nora frowned. "Hm?"
Seizing her large bag from the floor beside the desk—having dumped it there upon entering the classroom—Miss Tatum shuffled through it. The bag was dark green, embroidered with intricate designs of fruits—oranges, peaches, lemons, blueberries—and from where the cotton frayed along the ends of the zipper, Nora knew this bag had existed long before she was even a student there at Ailwyn Grammar.
"I swear I had it on me," Miss Tatum mumbled, nearly emptying the entire contents of her bag onto the desk. Then, right beside a tube of lipstick and a pair of green-tinted sunglasses, she seized some sort of parchment. "Here! This came for you."
Nestled between Miss Tatum's index finger and thumb was a yellowing envelope. A letter, Nora realised.
"Why would anyone send it to the school?" Gently taking it, Nora examined the handwriting clearly marking her name above the school's address. That writing. Something felt so familiar about it. "Do you know who it's from?"
Miss Tatum shrugged. "Doesn't say—only that it's for you. Someone probably sent it to the school in the hopes of it reaching you."
She pursed her lips. "Well, then it can't be from Flo. She knows my address."
Then, Nora turned the envelope over in her hand and her blood ran cold. There, attaching the seal of the envelope to the back, was a sticker of a dark green dragonfly outlined with golden edges.
The world dissolved around her. Nora knew exactly who this was from.
"Thank you, Mary," she smiled at her mentor, hoping her face didn't look as rigid as she felt.
Miss Tatum made no fuss and only nodded, offering a smile before tossing her belongings back into her bag with a carelessness that made Nora flinch.
"I'll see you back here in half an hour," Miss Tatum reminded before heaving her bag over her shoulder.
It was there in the way she hustled to the door without a word and gently closed it behind her that Nora knew she'd somehow given herself away. It was hard to hide much from Miss Tatum, after all.
In the moments that followed, when she was completely and entirely alone, and the clock ticked impatiently on the wall, Nora set the letter on her desk. She couldn't recall how long she simply stared at it, almost waiting for it to disappear. To prove that she had conjured this up in her mind.
The envelope was crumpled in the corners and the ink was smudged—evidence of a long journey. And the handwriting. That handwriting. How had she missed it at first glance? How had it not been the biggest tell? Though it had been a long time since she'd seen that penmanship, she could have almost guaranteed she'd pick it out of a hundred written papers. No one had ever written so messily yet so neatly as him.
Why had he decided to write now?
Taking a tentative step toward the desk, Nora reached for the envelope, turning it to the other side. She released a stuttering breath as her thumb ran over the sticker where she knew the royal seal of Delalia should be.
And when Nora finally peeled open the envelope, her heart soared backward in time.
