The Hand That Held A Baby Can Hold A Dagger As Well

Epilogue

The fresh smell of baby was like a magnet, the little voice in her head begging her not to let go of the infant.

For a second she mauled over the thought of turning around, forgetting this plan, and keeping her child in the safe caccoon of her arms.

But no. She wouldn't bestow this cruelty on her baby. Selfish thoughts were running through her head, but each time one presented its self she shoved it away, into the deep caverns of forgetfulness. Damn, they were so enticing.

Kira, she reminded herself, give your baby the life she deserves. Throwing it away for your own selfish needs is unacceptable. A roof over her head, a guarantee that she will have food for the coming weeks. She won't have endless burden of vengeful enemies hanging over her head. Its the least you can do.

So, before she changed her mind again, Kira carefully laid her child on the steps of Wilmere Manor, wrapped in a faded navy blanket. Deftly sliding something between the rolls of material, she then slid away.

A crisp white envelope lay on the fabric, Shanalia scrawled on it in brisk, but loping calligraphy.