CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The slight warmth of the season was finally gone.

There came the cold. Softly but promising of a harsh winter.

Men worked harder, logging trees and making hearth. The servants spurn and washed linens to last the cold. Fireplaces were moulded anew on the hallways and corridors.

The old ones brought to live with coal and timber.

The candles were made bigger and meat dried with the last reminder of sun.

The manor was alive with activities.

But his heart was a bit far from living.

The child had yet to leave her chamber. Days and nights had passed and counted down to four and twenty. She never came out.

Every day he had peeped and everyday he had seen the same thing. A pale child on her bed. Staring into oblivion.

He had thought her strong. Had seen a fire not easily fanned out.

Oh had he been wrong? Was she too weak to be alive again?

Her reason for fighting was gone. Everyone had a weakness.

He had read like as everything.

A prince, a bachelor, a warrior and then a king.