Isadora's POV
Daylight found its way to my balcony, spilling a wash of soft, mocking gold over the cold stones.
I stood there, my fingers wrapped around a ceramic cup of coffee. I hadn't taken a single sip. It was cold now, a thin skin forming on the surface, but I kept holding it just to have something to do with my hands. Behind me, the heavy oak door to my chambers creaked open. I didn't have to look to know it was the servants. I heard the soft rustle of their tunics and the quiet clink of metal as they set down a tray. Fresh bread, still steaming. Sweet fruits, and dark honey.
They moved quietly, bowing to my back before slipping out. The door clicked shut, and once again, I was alone with the wind.
