“I don’t want to go either. But right now, we have no choice. My leaving is good for you. Don’t provoke the Queen anymore, and wait for my return.”
“I will.”
“Be strong.”
“Yes.”
“Be careful during combat training.”
“I know.”
“Stay away from the boys…”
“Hey, that’s enough.” The girl’s cheek pressed against his neck. “I love you, Owen.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.” Hans pressed his lips to her ear and remained still for a long time. Wilhelmina then lay down in bed.
“Read me a book,” she said, handing over a half-worn book. “This is my mother’s collection. She used to read it to me, but I can hardly remember it now.”
Hans took the poetry collection. “Which poem do you want to hear?”
“Whatever.”
He opened it casually. The page was frequently read, with words annotated in Rebecca Queen’s handwriting. It was a poem called “Nightingale” by Ivana Holga.
“Did you hear, my dear? The nightingale outside the window has found its thorns, a lifetime of searching exchanged for its melodious tears of joy. Please listen carefully, my love; it is about to sing. The thorns are sharp and cold; pain and blood are the gifts of life. The journey ends at dawn. That is the voice of reverence for the soul, an uncompromising pursuit, transformation, dedication, destiny, and that is also me—an eternal love.”
At dawn, Wilhelmina woke from a sweet dream. The curtains were not drawn, and she could see the white fog on the courtyard lawn and birds foraging in the morning light. She was alone in the room. The poetry collection lay quietly on the chair where the man had sat last night.
Wilhelmina walked barefoot off the bed, picked up the book, and hugged it to her chest, trying to feel the warmth left by that person. A ray of sunlight broke through the thick fog, creating a golden light. Sir Wolf and the nanny knocked and entered Wilhelmina’s bedroom, finding the girl kneeling in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, crying heartbrokenly.
Chapter Three: Great Prospects
Lonely days are always magnified, and a flickering star in the darkness is so dazzling. I have been surrounded by guests, yet I have wandered alone under the starry sky, searching for his direction. A girl can do little.
