Chapter 7

A lone person stood upon the battlement, folded arms resting upon a crenel, chin resting upon the arms. The light blanket of snow that lay upon the quiet capital glistened with the dying rays of the late afternoon suns. The sparkles of light were as beautiful as the glare was bright.

The individual was lost among the shimmers for a while, remembering earlier, happier times, remembering previous visits here. The battlements were a favorite place to visit. Many thought it was ego that drove the frequent visits. In truth, there was that aspect. But there were other things as well, most of which ranked higher on the list. A visit to the battlements was often times a retreat, often times an escape, a place to brood or rejoice, a place to philosophize or clear one's mind. Today, however, was a day of brooding and escape as the melancholy of past versus present rose like bile. The mind tried to fight against it: That has never been my way—rise above it! Aided by a strong gale which came off the river, the short-lived depression was seemingly blown away. The figure not only welcomed it, but reveled in it, lowering the hood and letting shoulder-length dark blonde hair blow in the crisp wind.

"Rhenycyn! You will catch your death out here."

Surprised, Rhenycyn turned quickly. Shaking his head and smiling, he offered his sister a late retort. "That would leave you the sole heir, would it not dear Elly?"

Princess Ellycyn ignored his comment. "I have been looking all over for you—I should have known you would be up here. Do you not know they are waiting for you?"

"Let them wait. I am but a formality—as are you," the Prince snapped. He reached out to touch her cheek then. "I am sorry Ellycyn. I felt the need to be alone for awhile. It is just that… it is—"

"It is Athar, as usual," she finished for him. Athar was the wizard Advisor to the King. "That is all it ever is with you. Can you not leave it alone?"