When William had left her sight, drawn away by some unknown errand, she rested her head in her hand against the stone windowsill. She found herself humming, her moans amplified by the tunnel shaped hall.
While to find a key at last,
in this palace of death
I would rather run from this past.
To find what hope is left
While everything that luster lacks
Lies in the these walls of stone,
In vain I've searched the cracks.
And I remain alone.
I almost wish to find a rope...
But I will remain steadfast
Charging myself to find this hope.
Will I see that key at last?
Footsteps. Malaga whipped her head around, instinctively pulling her hair over her ears. She breathed. It was only the chamber maid.
"I apologize m'lady," said the gentle woman, "but it brings me such pleasure to hear thy voice."
A smile crossed the Lady's face, but it did not reach her eyes. She simply nodded, and turned back to her window. The sun was setting, on the third day. The dragons were meeting now, she could almost feel it.