16
I'd never been sent to my room before. I'd never had four permanent walls to call home before. My stay at boarding school was all too brief. My visits to my father's family never felt welcoming. But this room was mine.
The four-poster bed had been my mother's, as was the chest and vanity. Igraine had made the frilly comforter decades ago. The sheet was done in garish pinks that made me think of cough syrup but it kept me warm at night. Gwin had set a vase of flowers on the dresser at the beginning of the week. The blooms were wilting now, but I didn't throw them out.
They were mine. All these things were mine. They'd been given to me to make me feel comfortable and at home. And now all these things could be taken away.
They would be taken away. Because nothing in my life had ever la
