Korinna straightened up from binding the sheaves of wheat and saw her father’s ghost staring at her from across the field. Her heart leapt like a frightened doe, but she stood rooted to the spot. The shade gazed back at her with a calm expression.
He had to be dead. Her father, the duke of the powerful port city Kyratia, had rarely come to visit the remote farm at Anoberesovo, and not at all since her mother’s death years before. Korinna had received a letter just a week ago about his illness. The ghost’s haggard appearance told her the final outcome.