Chapter 11
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The window, the room, everything disappeared into the shadow mist of his power. His arms pulled her closer, his hand covering her eyes. "Don't look," he said in her ear but she had already seen it, that unnatural darkness of his magic.
Around her it twisted and spun, thick limbs that ranged in color from black as the darkest night to a fresh bruise. Deep purple light sparked and glowed along the edges, a color that shouldn't exist.
She closed her eyes tightly and buried her face into Arren's chest. For a moment she could hear the sound of his breathing and then he released her.
She opened her eyes and stared up at the hall that had replaced the sitting room. Wooden pillars lined the walkway, thick carpet covered the stone under her feet. Wide windows dotted the walls every few feet filling the space with light.
"Are you alright? Do you feel sick at all?" Arren asked, his voice low.
She opened the book, I feel fine. Where are we?
"Good. This is the Hall of Viewing. We're somewhere near the top floors of the castle, too far to walk," he answered, off hand.
She grinned and half ran, half tripped to the nearest window. She touched the glass, cold against her fingers, no hum of magic. Outside the ground was far away, the city below the mountain that the castle was built into, a tiny thing. The peaks of churches, the roofs of homes and shops looked like toys that she could move around at will.
Her attention shifted, pulled away from the landscape and back to the sky. Birds, she thought as she watched the winged forms as they came closer. Hawks but much larger than anything that she had ever seen, the beasts were massive, large enough for a man to ride.
She turned back to Arren, wide eyed and pointing.
He glanced out of the window, "Shadows Fall looks very calm from here."
Is that the name of the town? And those birds, what are they? She wrote excitedly.
He smiled, amused, "It is the name of the city, yes. And those were Great Hawks, I don't think you have them in your lands."
She shook her head, I want to see them. I want to go to that place.
"Maybe you will someday," his mood, for the moment still pleasant.
She nodded, smiling.
He held out his hand, "Come now, Princess, we have a meeting to attend."
She placed her hand in his. Together they walked down the hall until they reached a large door. She watched as Arren's shadows reached forward and the door opened onto a large open room, a single full length mirror in the center of it.
Around the mirror sat chairs, each occupied by a man. They were all middle aged or older, clearly of the upper class, marked by their rich clothing. Isilla spotted Lehan, his legs crossed, his posture betraying his arrogance. She stilled, fear filling her gut.
Arren rested his hand against her lower back for a moment, intimate and encouraging, but when she looked at him, his face was cold. His hand slipped from her back and he walked forward.
"Well look who's finally here," one man with a thick beard growled as Arren stepped towards the center of the room.
"I am not late, Lord Markel," Arren said his voice neutral, motioning for Isilla to take an empty chair. She sat down, smoothing her skirts over her thighs.
"We've been waiting for you to bring her, so that we can sort this all out," the man grumbled.
"We wouldn't have to do this," a thin man from across the room started, contempt dripping from his voice, "if the Crown Prince could hold his temper a bit better."
Lehan smirked, "Why blame me for the lies of the Light Realm? I was supposed to receive a wife, not some half cursed thing."
Isilla looked down at her lap, her fingers curling around the little book, her only means of communication. Whoever these men are, they will look down on me for this, she thought.
"It's done," Arren said, it was clear that he was ending further discussion on the matter of Isilla. She peeked from the corner of her eye at Lehan, even he listened.
"Regardless of the girl, why did you attack their prince? Were you trying to start the war again? Do you want bloodshed so badly?" Lord Markel hissed, his words directed at Lehan.
"I dislike tricks," Lehan said simply.
"Mad as your father," the older man responded, shaking his head.
The magic moved quickly, a dagger aimed at the man's face was suddenly there, hovering in front of his eyes. The air wavered, the outline of a twisted rope of Arren's shadow holding the dagger in place.
"Watch your words when you are speaking to the Crown," Arren said coolly. The dagger broke apart, turning to a greasy dust that hung in the air for a moment before disappearing completely. All eyes were on Arren and after a few grumbles the room calmed.
Isilla frowned. They think he attacked that man, she thought, but he was the one that stopped the dagger. Why did he protect Lehan?
"In a few moments, the representatives for the Light Realm will be on the glass. I have gathered you all here in order to show our respect and dedication to this peace. I know that your lands are weary from supporting the war effort for so long, we could all use this rest. So please, try to keep your petty upsets to yourself for a few moments longer," Arren's voice was cold and low. It carried though the room, an unspoken power behind it.
The room finally silent he waved his hand in front of the mirror, it rippled into life.
An old man, his skin dark and wrinkled under gray brows and a bald head, dressed in loose, flowing, golden robes sat in the mirror at a high backed chair. Behind him stood Argia, his face blank.
A cold sweat broke out on Islla's a back. No one else in the room seemed to know who the figure in the chair was, not even the two princes. Of course, thought Islla, he is never seen, not even this aspect of himself.
"Good morning," Arren began, "I want to offer my humblest apologies."
"Did you kill the girl? My son has reported that you were unhappy with the princess we sent."
Arren frowned, "No, she is fine."
"Let me speak to my daughter," the man said.
Without further prompting, Isilla stood and carefully made her way to the mirror. She bowed low before standing straight.
"Hmm, we sent such a beauty to the Dark Realm? Argia, they weren't happy with this?"
"The Crown Prince has different standards it seems," Ariga's voice came out flat, no hint of arrogance in his tone.
"Is he ready to take you as a bride? Is that why they have asked for this meeting?" the old man questioned, laughing slightly.
Isilla shook her head and pointed at Arren before writing, I married the brother.
The old man smiled, "How resourceful of you but you've caused me some trouble."
She sucked in her breath. I'm sorry, she wrote quickly. I acted as I thought best.
The man waved his hand, dismissing the comments, "I would have asked for that prince's life to apologize for the insult of attacking the Prince. But I don't want to deprive you of your new husband."
He stood, "We will overlook the actions of your prince as a wedding gift to one of my beloved daughters. But we wish to remind you, little lords, it makes no difference to us if we continue to this war or not. Our people do not suffer while yours starve. This year of peace has been nice for you, yes? If you wish for many more, then you would do well to hold your tempers in the future." He paused for a moment before adding, his tone light, almost friendly, "And tell your father that I said hello and look forward to meeting him again someday."
A flash of light and the old man was gone. Argia snickered and the mirror rippled, her reflection returning. For the first time she saw, clearly what everyone else saw, the dark dress emphasizing her figure, her hair framing her face. She let out a long breath and turned to Arren. He frowned at her, confused.
That was Zunig, Grand Avatar of the Emperor of Endless Light. The closest anyone outside of the main court will ever come to seeing my father.
Shock rippled across Arren's face for a moment before he turned from her. "It is done then. The war is averted. Go home to you lands, do what you can to settle the upset of your people. In the coming days the Crown will see to the resources you've asked for."
The meeting seemingly over, the men began to stand, whispering to themselves as they filed out of the room leaving only the two princes and Isilla.
Alone, Lehan turned to her, "I thought I told you to stay out of my sight?"
She glared at him, refusing to show the fear that she felt. He laughed.
"I guess I'm nothing now that you've seen your husband. Tell me, how well could he control himself? Did you cry when you saw his eyes? Or did he come from behind so you wouldn't see?" he taunted her, his hips moving lewdly.
"That's enough," Arren's voice dripped ice as he spoke.
Lehan chuckled, "I'm not afraid of you, brother. Take your wife and get out of my sight."
Isilla frowned and wrote quickly. He saved your kingdom, you should be more respectful!
Lehan scoffed at the note, his eyes dark, "He didn't do it for me."
"Enough, Lehan!" Arren growled, the shadows around him churning in their darkness.
"Fine," Lehan responded, his own magic forming around him, like smoke, and then he was gone leaving them alone in the wide room.
"You did very well," Arren said slowly, walking towards her, his hands out for hers. "I'll take you back to your rooms so you can rest."
She nodded as he took her hands, his darkness covering them for a moment before it cleared, leaving them both standing in front of her bedroom door. He released her and bowed, his darkness swallowing him, leaving her alone.
She opened her door, a trunk set in the center of her room.
She smiled wide, my things!
Opening the clasps, she sorted through the few belongings she had brought. Her mother's shawl folded around a stack of silver bracelets. An old and worn doll. It smells of the desert still, she thought as she reached deeper into the trunk. At the bottom was another, small leather box.
She lifted and opened it revealing a stack of carefully folded papers. Sitting on the floor, her fine gown spread around her she opened the first letter. My dearest it started before it began, a description of the night in the winter.
He wrote this when I asked about snow, she thought. The letters were in no real order, her favorites at the top, his loving words filling the page. This person, she thought, they have to be real. No one would write such things out of duty.
I have to do my best to meet them, she though folding the letter carefully, placing it back among the others.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
The window, the room, everything disappeared into the shadow mist of his power. His arms pulled her closer, his hand covering her eyes. "Don't look," he said in her ear but she had already seen it, that unnatural darkness of his magic.
Around her it twisted and spun, thick limbs that ranged in color from black as the darkest night to a fresh bruise. Deep purple light sparked and glowed along the edges, a color that shouldn't exist.
She closed her eyes tightly and buried her face into Arren's chest. For a moment she could hear the sound of his breathing and then he released her.
She opened her eyes and stared up at the hall that had replaced the sitting room. Wooden pillars lined the walkway, thick carpet covered the stone under her feet. Wide windows dotted the walls every few feet filling the space with light.
"Are you alright? Do you feel sick at all?" Arren asked, his voice low.
She opened the book, I feel fine. Where are we?
"Good. This is the Hall of Viewing. We're somewhere near the top floors of the castle, too far to walk," he answered, off hand.
She grinned and half ran, half tripped to the nearest window. She touched the glass, cold against her fingers, no hum of magic. Outside the ground was far away, the city below the mountain that the castle was built into, a tiny thing. The peaks of churches, the roofs of homes and shops looked like toys that she could move around at will.
Her attention shifted, pulled away from the landscape and back to the sky. Birds, she thought as she watched the winged forms as they came closer. Hawks but much larger than anything that she had ever seen, the beasts were massive, large enough for a man to ride.
She turned back to Arren, wide eyed and pointing.
He glanced out of the window, "Shadows Fall looks very calm from here."
Is that the name of the town? And those birds, what are they? She wrote excitedly.
He smiled, amused, "It is the name of the city, yes. And those were Great Hawks, I don't think you have them in your lands."
She shook her head, I want to see them. I want to go to that place.
"Maybe you will someday," his mood, for the moment still pleasant.
She nodded, smiling.
He held out his hand, "Come now, Princess, we have a meeting to attend."
She placed her hand in his. Together they walked down the hall until they reached a large door. She watched as Arren's shadows reached forward and the door opened onto a large open room, a single full length mirror in the center of it.
Around the mirror sat chairs, each occupied by a man. They were all middle aged or older, clearly of the upper class, marked by their rich clothing. Isilla spotted Lehan, his legs crossed, his posture betraying his arrogance. She stilled, fear filling her gut.
Arren rested his hand against her lower back for a moment, intimate and encouraging, but when she looked at him, his face was cold. His hand slipped from her back and he walked forward.
"Well look who's finally here," one man with a thick beard growled as Arren stepped towards the center of the room.
"I am not late, Lord Markel," Arren said his voice neutral, motioning for Isilla to take an empty chair. She sat down, smoothing her skirts over her thighs.
"We've been waiting for you to bring her, so that we can sort this all out," the man grumbled.
"We wouldn't have to do this," a thin man from across the room started, contempt dripping from his voice, "if the Crown Prince could hold his temper a bit better."
Lehan smirked, "Why blame me for the lies of the Light Realm? I was supposed to receive a wife, not some half cursed thing."
Isilla looked down at her lap, her fingers curling around the little book, her only means of communication. Whoever these men are, they will look down on me for this, she thought.
"It's done," Arren said, it was clear that he was ending further discussion on the matter of Isilla. She peeked from the corner of her eye at Lehan, even he listened.
"Regardless of the girl, why did you attack their prince? Were you trying to start the war again? Do you want bloodshed so badly?" Lord Markel hissed, his words directed at Lehan.
"I dislike tricks," Lehan said simply.
"Mad as your father," the older man responded, shaking his head.
The magic moved quickly, a dagger aimed at the man's face was suddenly there, hovering in front of his eyes. The air wavered, the outline of a twisted rope of Arren's shadow holding the dagger in place.
"Watch your words when you are speaking to the Crown," Arren said coolly. The dagger broke apart, turning to a greasy dust that hung in the air for a moment before disappearing completely. All eyes were on Arren and after a few grumbles the room calmed.
Isilla frowned. They think he attacked that man, she thought, but he was the one that stopped the dagger. Why did he protect Lehan?
"In a few moments, the representatives for the Light Realm will be on the glass. I have gathered you all here in order to show our respect and dedication to this peace. I know that your lands are weary from supporting the war effort for so long, we could all use this rest. So please, try to keep your petty upsets to yourself for a few moments longer," Arren's voice was cold and low. It carried though the room, an unspoken power behind it.
The room finally silent he waved his hand in front of the mirror, it rippled into life.
An old man, his skin dark and wrinkled under gray brows and a bald head, dressed in loose, flowing, golden robes sat in the mirror at a high backed chair. Behind him stood Argia, his face blank.
A cold sweat broke out on Islla's a back. No one else in the room seemed to know who the figure in the chair was, not even the two princes. Of course, thought Islla, he is never seen, not even this aspect of himself.
"Good morning," Arren began, "I want to offer my humblest apologies."
"Did you kill the girl? My son has reported that you were unhappy with the princess we sent."
Arren frowned, "No, she is fine."
"Let me speak to my daughter," the man said.
Without further prompting, Isilla stood and carefully made her way to the mirror. She bowed low before standing straight.
"Hmm, we sent such a beauty to the Dark Realm? Argia, they weren't happy with this?"
"The Crown Prince has different standards it seems," Ariga's voice came out flat, no hint of arrogance in his tone.
"Is he ready to take you as a bride? Is that why they have asked for this meeting?" the old man questioned, laughing slightly.
Isilla shook her head and pointed at Arren before writing, I married the brother.
The old man smiled, "How resourceful of you but you've caused me some trouble."
She sucked in her breath. I'm sorry, she wrote quickly. I acted as I thought best.
The man waved his hand, dismissing the comments, "I would have asked for that prince's life to apologize for the insult of attacking the Prince. But I don't want to deprive you of your new husband."
He stood, "We will overlook the actions of your prince as a wedding gift to one of my beloved daughters. But we wish to remind you, little lords, it makes no difference to us if we continue to this war or not. Our people do not suffer while yours starve. This year of peace has been nice for you, yes? If you wish for many more, then you would do well to hold your tempers in the future." He paused for a moment before adding, his tone light, almost friendly, "And tell your father that I said hello and look forward to meeting him again someday."
A flash of light and the old man was gone. Argia snickered and the mirror rippled, her reflection returning. For the first time she saw, clearly what everyone else saw, the dark dress emphasizing her figure, her hair framing her face. She let out a long breath and turned to Arren. He frowned at her, confused.
That was Zunig, Grand Avatar of the Emperor of Endless Light. The closest anyone outside of the main court will ever come to seeing my father.
Shock rippled across Arren's face for a moment before he turned from her. "It is done then. The war is averted. Go home to you lands, do what you can to settle the upset of your people. In the coming days the Crown will see to the resources you've asked for."
The meeting seemingly over, the men began to stand, whispering to themselves as they filed out of the room leaving only the two princes and Isilla.
Alone, Lehan turned to her, "I thought I told you to stay out of my sight?"
She glared at him, refusing to show the fear that she felt. He laughed.
"I guess I'm nothing now that you've seen your husband. Tell me, how well could he control himself? Did you cry when you saw his eyes? Or did he come from behind so you wouldn't see?" he taunted her, his hips moving lewdly.
"That's enough," Arren's voice dripped ice as he spoke.
Lehan chuckled, "I'm not afraid of you, brother. Take your wife and get out of my sight."
Isilla frowned and wrote quickly. He saved your kingdom, you should be more respectful!
Lehan scoffed at the note, his eyes dark, "He didn't do it for me."
"Enough, Lehan!" Arren growled, the shadows around him churning in their darkness.
"Fine," Lehan responded, his own magic forming around him, like smoke, and then he was gone leaving them alone in the wide room.
"You did very well," Arren said slowly, walking towards her, his hands out for hers. "I'll take you back to your rooms so you can rest."
She nodded as he took her hands, his darkness covering them for a moment before it cleared, leaving them both standing in front of her bedroom door. He released her and bowed, his darkness swallowing him, leaving her alone.
She opened her door, a trunk set in the center of her room.
She smiled wide, my things!
Opening the clasps, she sorted through the few belongings she had brought. Her mother's shawl folded around a stack of silver bracelets. An old and worn doll. It smells of the desert still, she thought as she reached deeper into the trunk. At the bottom was another, small leather box.
She lifted and opened it revealing a stack of carefully folded papers. Sitting on the floor, her fine gown spread around her she opened the first letter. My dearest it started before it began, a description of the night in the winter.
He wrote this when I asked about snow, she thought. The letters were in no real order, her favorites at the top, his loving words filling the page. This person, she thought, they have to be real. No one would write such things out of duty.
I have to do my best to meet them, she though folding the letter carefully, placing it back among the others.
The window, the room, everything disappeared into the shadow mist of his power. His arms pulled her closer, his hand covering her eyes. "Don't look," he said in her ear but she had already seen it, that unnatural darkness of his magic.Around her it twisted and spun, thick limbs that ranged in color from black as the darkest night to a fresh bruise. Deep purple light sparked and glowed along the edges, a color that shouldn't exist.She closed her eyes tightly and buried her face into Arren's chest. For a moment she could hear the sound of his breathing and then he released her.She opened her eyes and stared up at the hall that had replaced the sitting room. Wooden pillars lined the walkway, thick carpet covered the stone under her feet. Wide windows dotted the walls every few feet filling the space with light."Are you alright? Do you feel sick at all?" Arren asked, his voice low.She opened the book, I feel fine. Where are we?"Good. This is the Hall of Viewing. We're somewhere near the top floors of the castle, too far to walk," he answered, off hand.She grinned and half ran, half tripped to the nearest window. She touched the glass, cold against her fingers, no hum of magic. Outside the ground was far away, the city below the mountain that the castle was built into, a tiny thing. The peaks of churches, the roofs of homes and shops looked like toys that she could move around at will.Her attention shifted, pulled away from the landscape and back to the sky. Birds, she thought as she watched the winged forms as they came closer. Hawks but much larger than anything that she had ever seen, the beasts were massive, large enough for a man to ride.She turned back to Arren, wide eyed and pointing.He glanced out of the window, "Shadows Fall looks very calm from here."Is that the name of the town? And those birds, what are they? She wrote excitedly.He smiled, amused, "It is the name of the city, yes. And those were Great Hawks, I don't think you have them in your lands."She shook her head, I want to see them. I want to go to that place."Maybe you will someday," his mood, for the moment still pleasant.She nodded, smiling.He held out his hand, "Come now, Princess, we have a meeting to attend."She placed her hand in his. Together they walked down the hall until they reached a large door. She watched as Arren's shadows reached forward and the door opened onto a large open room, a single full length mirror in the center of it.Around the mirror sat chairs, each occupied by a man. They were all middle aged or older, clearly of the upper class, marked by their rich clothing. Isilla spotted Lehan, his legs crossed, his posture betraying his arrogance. She stilled, fear filling her gut.Arren rested his hand against her lower back for a moment, intimate and encouraging, but when she looked at him, his face was cold. His hand slipped from her back and he walked forward."Well look who's finally here," one man with a thick beard growled as Arren stepped towards the center of the room."I am not late, Lord Markel," Arren said his voice neutral, motioning for Isilla to take an empty chair. She sat down, smoothing her skirts over her thighs."We've been waiting for you to bring her, so that we can sort this all out," the man grumbled."We wouldn't have to do this," a thin man from across the room started, contempt dripping from his voice, "if the Crown Prince could hold his temper a bit better."Lehan smirked, "Why blame me for the lies of the Light Realm? I was supposed to receive a wife, not some half cursed thing."Isilla looked down at her lap, her fingers curling around the little book, her only means of communication. Whoever these men are, they will look down on me for this, she thought."It's done," Arren said, it was clear that he was ending further discussion on the matter of Isilla. She peeked from the corner of her eye at Lehan, even he listened."Regardless of the girl, why did you attack their prince? Were you trying to start the war again? Do you want bloodshed so badly?" Lord Markel hissed, his words directed at Lehan."I dislike tricks," Lehan said simply."Mad as your father," the older man responded, shaking his head.The magic moved quickly, a dagger aimed at the man's face was suddenly there, hovering in front of his eyes. The air wavered, the outline of a twisted rope of Arren's shadow holding the dagger in place."Watch your words when you are speaking to the Crown," Arren said coolly. The dagger broke apart, turning to a greasy dust that hung in the air for a moment before disappearing completely. All eyes were on Arren and after a few grumbles the room calmed.Isilla frowned. They think he attacked that man, she thought, but he was the one that stopped the dagger. Why did he protect Lehan?"In a few moments, the representatives for the Light Realm will be on the glass. I have gathered you all here in order to show our respect and dedication to this peace. I know that your lands are weary from supporting the war effort for so long, we could all use this rest. So please, try to keep your petty upsets to yourself for a few moments longer," Arren's voice was cold and low. It carried though the room, an unspoken power behind it.The room finally silent he waved his hand in front of the mirror, it rippled into life.An old man, his skin dark and wrinkled under gray brows and a bald head, dressed in loose, flowing, golden robes sat in the mirror at a high backed chair. Behind him stood Argia, his face blank.A cold sweat broke out on Islla's a back. No one else in the room seemed to know who the figure in the chair was, not even the two princes. Of course, thought Islla, he is never seen, not even this aspect of himself."Good morning," Arren began, "I want to offer my humblest apologies.""Did you kill the girl? My son has reported that you were unhappy with the princess we sent."Arren frowned, "No, she is fine.""Let me speak to my daughter," the man said.Without further prompting, Isilla stood and carefully made her way to the mirror. She bowed low before standing straight."Hmm, we sent such a beauty to the Dark Realm? Argia, they weren't happy with this?""The Crown Prince has different standards it seems," Ariga's voice came out flat, no hint of arrogance in his tone."Is he ready to take you as a bride? Is that why they have asked for this meeting?" the old man questioned, laughing slightly.Isilla shook her head and pointed at Arren before writing, I married the brother.The old man smiled, "How resourceful of you but you've caused me some trouble."She sucked in her breath. I'm sorry, she wrote quickly. I acted as I thought best.The man waved his hand, dismissing the comments, "I would have asked for that prince's life to apologize for the insult of attacking the Prince. But I don't want to deprive you of your new husband."He stood, "We will overlook the actions of your prince as a wedding gift to one of my beloved daughters. But we wish to remind you, little lords, it makes no difference to us if we continue to this war or not. Our people do not suffer while yours starve. This year of peace has been nice for you, yes? If you wish for many more, then you would do well to hold your tempers in the future." He paused for a moment before adding, his tone light, almost friendly, "And tell your father that I said hello and look forward to meeting him again someday."A flash of light and the old man was gone. Argia snickered and the mirror rippled, her reflection returning. For the first time she saw, clearly what everyone else saw, the dark dress emphasizing her figure, her hair framing her face. She let out a long breath and turned to Arren. He frowned at her, confused.That was Zunig, Grand Avatar of the Emperor of Endless Light. The closest anyone outside of the main court will ever come to seeing my father.Shock rippled across Arren's face for a moment before he turned from her. "It is done then. The war is averted. Go home to you lands, do what you can to settle the upset of your people. In the coming days the Crown will see to the resources you've asked for."The meeting seemingly over, the men began to stand, whispering to themselves as they filed out of the room leaving only the two princes and Isilla.Alone, Lehan turned to her, "I thought I told you to stay out of my sight?"She glared at him, refusing to show the fear that she felt. He laughed."I guess I'm nothing now that you've seen your husband. Tell me, how well could he control himself? Did you cry when you saw his eyes? Or did he come from behind so you wouldn't see?" he taunted her, his hips moving lewdly."That's enough," Arren's voice dripped ice as he spoke.Lehan chuckled, "I'm not afraid of you, brother. Take your wife and get out of my sight."Isilla frowned and wrote quickly. He saved your kingdom, you should be more respectful!Lehan scoffed at the note, his eyes dark, "He didn't do it for me.""Enough, Lehan!" Arren growled, the shadows around him churning in their darkness."Fine," Lehan responded, his own magic forming around him, like smoke, and then he was gone leaving them alone in the wide room."You did very well," Arren said slowly, walking towards her, his hands out for hers. "I'll take you back to your rooms so you can rest."She nodded as he took her hands, his darkness covering them for a moment before it cleared, leaving them both standing in front of her bedroom door. He released her and bowed, his darkness swallowing him, leaving her alone.She opened her door, a trunk set in the center of her room.She smiled wide, my things!Opening the clasps, she sorted through the few belongings she had brought. Her mother's shawl folded around a stack of silver bracelets. An old and worn doll. It smells of the desert still, she thought as she reached deeper into the trunk. At the bottom was another, small leather box.She lifted and opened it revealing a stack of carefully folded papers. Sitting on the floor, her fine gown spread around her she opened the first letter. My dearest it started before it began, a description of the night in the winter.He wrote this when I asked about snow, she thought. The letters were in no real order, her favorites at the top, his loving words filling the page. This person, she thought, they have to be real. No one would write such things out of duty.I have to do my best to meet them, she though folding the letter carefully, placing it back among the others.
