𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐬 (Book Two)

11. Letters to Nesta

Isabella

She glared down at the piece of paper before her, yet again attempting to write to her sister. Her twin. It shouldn't be this hard but she's left it so long that it's become... odd. Unnatural. She's never had to write to Nesta before. They always just speak in person and share thoughts with a single look. Now she has to literally spell everything out.

Dear Nesta,

Nes,

To Nesta,

To My sister,

To my Sister,

It doesn't feel like them. Like their relationship. It feels as if she's traded her close bond with Nesta for a distant one with an acquaintance. Azriel had listened patiently to her the other evening. He had let her rant to her heart's content until she had solved, or rather diagnosed the problem herself. Which meant they had no solution and she only felt marginally better for having voiced everything.

The shadowsinger hadn't said anything, clearly knowing she just needed to get the words out. It always amazed her how well she fit with her mates. Cassian would have offered her solutions, and worked out a plan with her. Rhys would have tried to just fix it for her. Which would have been interesting to see. She wonders if Rhys would have sent Nesta a letter himself, one that would have quite possibly demanded that Nesta send Isabella a letter first.

Azriel, her quite mate, was always content to just be with her. To not influence her or make decisions, only offer support or add information to her growing repertoire. Though she's not naive enough to believe that he hasn't been keeping tabs on her sisters. Not just to keep them safe but to see what their reaction has been to her leaving.

Especially Nesta. Especially after how she and Nesta had gotten upset with Feyre at their first meeting. It was clear to the outsiders that the elder sisters were angry out of concern for the youngest. Both were furious at her for not sending word that she was safe and alive.

Isabella shudders to think about how awful those months had been. How their hopes had slowly shattered as the inevitable thought of death crept into their minds. There was no way Feyre could have survived. It was fate and sheer dumb luck that had saved her. Or rather the game that was being played.

She and Nesta had spoken of it, their assumption that Feyre had been either turned into a slave or a toy. They couldn't decide whether to pray for their sister to have a quick and merciful death, or for the High Lord to stay entertained with her long enough for Feyre to live as long as possible.

Dear Nesta,

My apologies for not writing in so long.

Nesta,

Oliver and I are safe and happy.

Sister,

I know I should have written sooner, please forgive me for the delay.

Nes,

I'm sorry.

She flung the paper into the basket at her feet, tipping the whole thing into the fire before storming from the room. This was ridiculous. Nesta was her sister, her twin for gods sake. They had spoken plenty, and when they hadn't spoken they knew the other better than themselves.

But that was when they were together.

Ever since Isabella moved in with the Mandrays a distance had grown between them. Walls and barriers rising to match the physical distance. Secrets and lies to hide the truth.