My beautiful picture

The King’s Farewell…

“Your mother’s memorial,” Rowan said, pleased.   “My love for Engl is poured out here.”

His voice spoke of business. No tenderness. “Love…?” I whispered.

“The Jewel, rose,” he smiled wistfully. “You were to be the sacrifice.   Engl offered herself instead. You owe me.   You are to spy on Roland.”

“Your heir?” my voice quivered.

“You are the youngest and your life holds no value. You fail, he may sharpen his teeth on your bones.”

Leaving me, I seethed about the entrance stone. Mother portrayed just as a big bosom,…his desire. Given enough time, I would replace it. With his blood.