I have been alone since my mother died.
The loneliness has always spread through my body like rot. Even though I am continuously surrounded by people, it has lurked beneath my skin and threatened to consume me.
This morning, when I wake up alone, it feels different.
It’s an alone where I can hear my own thoughts; they mingle with the gentle patter of rain against the thin window.
For once, I don’t have to perform to anyone, because there are no ladies-in-waiting ushering me out of bed. Instead, I can lie bundled up in the soft quilt in a room filled with intriguing piles of books and sweet-scented herbs.
This morning, I’m not the king’s daughter, or Sebastian’s wife, or a princess with duties.
I am just. . . me.
A thrill surges through my body.
There are so many things I should be
