“You say we’ll soar like two birds through the clouds, but soon you’ll cage me on your shelf – I’ll never learn to be just me first by myself.”
Imsdyn 20th, 1513 – River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion
The only sounds for a moment was the soft call of a mocker-bird in the yard and the soft splash of water in the basin, but that would change shortly. There was someone on the other side of the whitewashed kitchen door and soon enough that she would start speaking again. Annette had already put off listening to her talk for long enough.
“Are you sure you don’t need help, Annette?” It was funny, Tawny’s speaking voice would be wonderful if it just didn’t have that petulant whine to it. If life had dealt her another hand, made her someone other than the third trophy wife of a man whose only accomplishment was avoiding drafts enough to still be alive at this point in time.