The wind blew sharply through the trees, pushing their leaves aside. Yeara stood in the field not far from the stable, now dressed in a riding habit—a navy-blue coat-like suit paired with a long skirt and boots.
Black net gloves covered her hands, and a hat rested neatly upon her hair, followed by a veil.
She waited for the horse to arrive, as she was about to practice horse riding. The wind blew harder, which was strange given that the sun was out. It was almost as if it was not following the patterns of nature at all.
Anyone who saw her would never know what troubled her.
She had sincerely wanted Zalthor to stay. She did not know why, but she had wanted to spend more time with her husband. The thought itself was almost absurd, considering how things were—and she was the kind who had never even believed in love or marriage. Or did she?
A soft breath escaped her lips.
Would it truly have been better if she had been selfish and told him to stay with her..?
