“There is a way to delay it, Sidra,” Donella said. Which Donella knew, despite being dead for the past five years. “I have been teaching her letters and how to read.” But the truth was, all of the isle children were required to attend classes in Sloane when they turned six.

Her armor was incandescent in the light, a breath away from being wholly translucent.ĭonella was so beautiful it sometimes made Sidra’s chest ache.

The ghost sat in her favorite chair at the table, her tawny hair flowing down her shoulders. When Donella was silent, Sidra glanced at her. The cottage was quiet, dusted with dawn, and the wind was just beginning to howl its morning gossip. “I have to send Maisie to school this autumn,” Sidra said as she stirred the parritch. Three cords that were so interwoven that Sidra was not surprised that Donella appeared to her and her alone. The women-one dead and one living-were connected by love and blood and soil. How well was Sidra caring for the daughter and husband she had left behind? But most of the time Sidra felt as if Donella was simply keeping her company, so fastened was her soul to this place, to this ground. Sometimes Sidra felt unworthy, as if Donella were assessing her. The visits occurred when one season ended and another began, when change could be felt in the air.ĭonella Tamerlaine’s ghost liked to bask in the morning light, dressed in leather armor and plaid, watching as Sidra stood in the kitchen by the fire, cooking breakfast for Maisie. Sometimes Sidra saw the ghost of Torin’s first wife sitting at the table.

A river enchanted