A night had never been longer than the hours that ticked by. Prayers had never been so loud, and pain had never echoed so cruelly within the walls of the western tower.
Outside the chambers of the King and Consort, the palace mourned. The walls carried white decorations, hanging lanterns, and bereaved servants. White roses flooded the entrance of the castle, and the palace shone even in the brightness of the morning glow.
The golden curtains were replaced with black, and the throne room now bore a throne with its crown, for its keeper now lay still in the arms of his lover.
Consort Elias did not scream when Rowan died. No… he couldn't believe it at first, could he? Or was his heart in denial of the truth?
Alone with Rowan's ceased breathing and still body, Elias struggled to swallow his sobs. He bit his lower lip as if crying would dawn the reality he was struggling so hard not to accept.
