15 October, 1345.
Stormhold Castle,
The walled city of Rothwell,
Capital of Myknos.
Prince Nicolas Alexander Tutton
Fleeting images of his mother as the cold hand of death squeezed around her throat, floated in and out of his mind taunting him to try and save her. He tossed and turned on the cold stone floor of the cell Khasi had thrown him into. His mind spun and reeled with images that he tried to ignore but how could he, when his conscience kept reminding him how stupid he had been.
His head pounded and his body shook with fever, combined effects of the guilt eating him up and the poison Khasi had injected into his system.
She always made sure to give a fresh dose each day or so he assumed; he couldn't tell how long he'd been down there and he sure as he'll didn't want to know. It hurt him to imagine what damage had been done to his kingdom.
