18
Cherries in the Wintergarden
Stefan played with his piles of old driftwood, forming them into castles and warriors that lived solely in his imagination. She laughed as he told her about the battle brewing, through a pale face that had never seen the sunlight except through the thatches in their tiny window, and had no inkling of a castle beyond the words she’d chosen to help him see a world that would never exist for him.
Days since Eoghan had left for Termonglen. He rarely left Duncarrow. Until he departed, she spent her restless nights imagining that this was when they might starve to death, when with him went the knowledge that the two needed food and drink to survive. But at least one other person knew of their existence, for their two meals a day continued, as they always had, a
