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The Romanov Diary
Category: Historical
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The end.