After the night of the wedding, everything seemed to go back to normal. The palace was surprisingly calm for once, everyone too busy hiding from the cold and enjoying the time off as my father refused to leave his heated chambers and instead enjoyed the company of several of his wives. The coming of the longest night was something we all dreaded, the stories of ghosts in the snow and of storms that never ended making it hard for this time of year to be filled with joy.
I spent a lot of my time inside as well, finding the covered halls too smelly for my taste and feeling listless about the idea of going out to skate. The world seemed like it had gone to sleep, and I too wished to join it. The ink was too cold to paint or draw, my fingers too cramped to play my instruments. I was unable to
