I point to a painting of a basic tree by the river to Cassandra. I say, "Emilienne drew this a few years ago. Her tutor required her to do it and she hated it. She would mock the painting at every chance she got. She would impersonate the tutor, his accent, his posture, everything. I can see her now..." Tears begin to rise into my eyes, but I don't feel the horrible gut wrenching ache that I am used to. I still feel the pain, of course, but I also feel the warmth of love and pride.
Cassandra grins and I continue down the hall. I've been showing Cassandra around the castle. After a few more attempts at finishing my essay, I decided to go on another walk with Cassandra. I'm going to assume that I have all of tomorrow to work on it. If not, well, I don't think my tutor can hate me any more.
