Chapter Fourty Two
"Your Grace?"
The sound from the other side of the door pulled me out of my daze.
"Come in."
I didn't turn around. I remained standing by the window of my bedchamber, watching the shadows of the dark woods swallow the last remnants of the twilight. The glass was cold against my forehead, a sharp contrast to the heat of the tea I hadn't touched.
"Your Grace."
"Ah! Hans is here too." I smiled as I acknowledged his presence.
"Lord Hans was done guiding the help, so I brought him along, Your Grace," Vizen explained, stepping into the room with a silver tray that he set down with a practiced, albeit shaky, click.
"Hmm. Sit."
I heard the heavy thud of the old chairs as they sat. The silence stretched, as the candlelight flickered against the frost-covered panes.
"What did you call me for, Your Grace?" Vizen finally asked, adjusting his spectacles.
"It's evening already." I traced a trail of condensation on the glass.
