Lorraine knew that shape, the way he held the sword slightly lower, the quiet steadiness in his movements. And how he was taller than everyone else. He was the calm amidst the chaos.
Her breath caught.
So, this was the "hunting" he went on every day.
Her husband, the dethroned prince, the man the Empire branded as unworthy, the true heir as known to some, had been raiding the Emperor's own tax collectors.
Lorraine pressed her hand over her mouth as the realization settled like a weight in her chest. She could almost hear his voice in her head and that smile when she confronted him about this: "I am learning from you... I'm even wearing a mask!"
The snow kept falling, quietly, almost innocently, as if the heavens wanted to hide the blood soaking into the ground.
