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The Conqueror’s Wife
Category: Historical
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The end.