Rosamund laid her head onto his chest, moving with each of his steady breaths. This was the moment she was stealing from fate, still a small feeling of warmth and home. Rosamund had found so many places, so many castles, that she could call a house, but none of them was home to her. The brick walls were always decorated with color she didn’t choose, the furniture always sophisticated ones, while she loved woods that had history behind them. Her dresses were always tailored to perfection but none of them had the stain of unforgettable memories. No dress was in a color she would feel beautiful in. All of them were just another pair of handcuffs that looked like gilded bangles. The jewellery would always be the ones selected or discarded by the Queen. Rosamund wanted the worn out rings and ea
