“Mom, there is something wrong with the Birch tree!”
“Oh no, what’s wrong with it?” Mom comes over and looks out the window with her daughter and sees clear liquid dripping from the bare branches and grins.
Seeing no humor in the situation, Dalyn starts to tear up. The tree was oozing from every twig.
Wiping a tear away from her daughter’s cheek she says, “There is nothing wrong with your tree sweetheart. That is what it does when it is sad. It misses the warm summer weather. All will be well in the spring.”
As I strolled along the ancient paths through the city, I could see the imprints in the stones of those who walked before me. The vines climbed the walls and the shutters banged hard against the walls from the wind. This town was founded in 1268 under the rule of Alfons von Kastilien of the House of Burgundy who would come to see his mistress in the dead of night and lay with her.
The court will convene tomorrow to finalize my lineage so I can take the throne on my 21st birthday. I still wonder how they tracked me down.