The clouds across the sky were made ruddy by the red-orange glow of twilight.
The horizon looked as though it was bleeding as the sun began to dip into the waters of Tel Azuri on the west. The air was dry and humid. The breeze that blew over the Castle’s court yard did nothing to cool Amy’s sweating face.
As soon as the blaring horns started, Amy left Geneva’s chambers and headed to her own. She was not surprised to see Lucille standing by her door. The Luxdale court servant bowed and offered to bring Amy’s belonging with her to the courtyard. Amy stepped into her room and a minute later, she emerged with the diadem of the Queen resting askew on her head. It felt heavy and foreign as though she thought that the crown didn’t belong there. Of course it doesn’t belong there, Amy. It’s not
