A Treason of Thorns

I remember the smell of damp soil.

The sound of rain running down my bedroom windows at Burleigh House. The weight of a full valise, tugging at one arm.

Below, the king’s carriage stands on the drive. I press my face to the glass, still only a child, just ten years old, not ready for any of this. It’s past time to leave, and Mira’s already come up to my bedroom to ask if I need help with anything. I sent her away, because I can’t bear for anyone to see how broken I am at the thought of leaving Burleigh House, which has been the only constant presence in my life since the day I was born.

But the House sees, and that hurts me worst of all. I want to be brave for it, to be a good Caretaker, but I can’t stop silent tears from tracking down my face.