"What do you see, sir?" Lars asked, coming back down the stairs.
"Spring," he said, standing. His head felt light and clear, as did his heart. The ghosts had found justice and spring's harbingers had come. Praise the King. The dying days of winter had finally ended.
Lars looked at the flower and chuckled, shaking his head. "Aye to that, sir. I'm ready for a little warmth."
As am I. Dubric draped his arm over his page's shoulders. "Let us get that ale, shall we?"
"Yes, sir!"
Together they walked into the castle, leaving the night to the moon and the coming spring.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tamara Siler Jones lives in a refurbished farmhouse in her native Iowa, USA, with her husband, daughter, and menagerie of pets. A creator by nature, Tamara worked as a graphic designer until Dubric's ghosts forced her to chronicle their demises. She enjoys making quilts, watching horror flicks, and baking sweet concoctions whenever possible. Visit her website at www.tarnarasilerjones.com for more information and slave monkeys.
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