The Dreamer did not visit her that night. She was more than a bit sorry about it. She didn't sleep much, instead opting to weep silently into her pillow. Her heart ached so that she couldn't think of dreaming without seeing her conquest. She had thought of herself as an omnipotent goddess of love and was now bitterly disappointed. Perhaps it was true that the first love of a girl never lasted, but she should have known better. After all, she was a grown woman, not some precocious little lass.
She cursed herself for ever letting another person sneak into her soul. It was a dangerous thing indeed to love the prince. Since nights were full of nothing and nothingness amplified pain, she began to fear the dark again.
