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Crown of Thorns
Category: Historical
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The end.