“Falada waits patiently while I linger inside, listening to the sounds of the city going to sleep. I sit cross-legged on a woven straw mat, the stone floor hard and cold beneath it. Closing my eyes, I sink into the quiet. What is it I truly wish for? I see Corbé, his lips curling back as he meets my glance every morning at the barn door, and I want safety from that look and its attendant meanings. I think of the books I used to read, and while I miss them I now have the time to think back over t...hem, consider their arguments and opinions as I watch the flock; this I would not change. My life has the necessary comforts—food daily, work to keep me busy, time to reflect, and some small company to share it all with. While a hot bath might be nice, it is too small and irrelevant a thing to pray for. Then of course come the larger wishes: I wish safety for Kestrin, as little as I understand him—safety for him and from him. I wish Valka might be kept in check, her interests bound to the court and affecting the people not at all.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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