Her palace is cold and unforgiving, much like these barren lands. It is no place for a Princess, Northern or not.
⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆
Dressed again in the same clothes before after soaking in soothing salts and oils, I emerged from the water closet, my hair tied up high in a ponytail with a black ribbon. Theo wore fresh clothes a little looser than his previous ones, so they must be Soren's. He sniffed them and scowled. Yep, Soren's.
The bed sheets have been changed and remade. Margarette has yet to arrive, so Theo must have made it. He didn't need to, and I feel awful that he did.
Before I can comment about it, though, I look past him, and my heart almost leapt from my chest at the sight of my knight. My footsteps stop as our eyes lock. Soren is in his armour again, arms behind his back, back straight, in position like normal.
