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The Conqueror’s Wife
Category: Historical
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
A knock at the door changed everything.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The end.