Outside, standing at the bottom of the temple stairs, Telmé looked at the bridge, the castle, the sky, the river and could not see a single place where he belonged. The silence of the late hour pressed down on him, made him even more painfully aware of his solitude. Where was a half-demon supposed to go when his people did not consider him a worthy Prince? When his fiancé was obviously happier with someone else, so much so he had ceased to care about Telmé entirely?
He was tired. All he wanted was to rest. His bedroom had never seemed so far away and no doubt Birgir was already waiting for him there, ready to start yelling all over again. What had happened to all the people who had loved him? The ones who had called him comrade?
Where was he supposed to go when no one wanted him?