18
ELENA
I was Andreas's wife. His slave, or... what does it matter?
I lost count of how many weeks I had spent in Scottish lands. Time flowed slowly and suffocatingly here. Some mornings, when I looked out the window, I saw a damp, misty haze, and the despair inside me grew layer upon layer. It felt like the sun would never reach morning. Even the sun here was hopeless, as if it rose only to cast a dark shadow between Andreas and me.
Even though we were married for peace, there was not a shred of peace in our eyes. Anger in his eyes, pure helplessness in mine. For now, there seemed to be a small truce between us, but I felt it could erupt at any moment.
I couldn't sleep well at night, nor could I find peace during the day. When I was alone in the room, I kept waiting for the door
