Queen Rose had not slept a wink.
She sat in her chambers, staring at the piece of fabric the guards had brought to her the previous night. It was small, torn at the edges, and stained with dirt, but she recognized it immediately.
It belonged to Jasmine.
Her granddaughter had been somewhere near the eastern border, living in an abandoned house like a fugitive. The thought alone made Rose's chest ache.
How had things gotten this bad?
How had she allowed a young woman to suffer so much while living under her own roof?
Rose pressed the fabric against her chest and closed her eyes.
"Where are you, my child?" she whispered. "Why are you hiding from us?"
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," she ordered.
King Richard entered, looking just as exhausted as she felt. He had changed his clothes, but the lines on his face were deeper than usual, and his expression told her he had spent the night thinking about the same thing.
"Have the guards returned?" Rose asked immediately.
