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Cass, with her innocent curiosity, kept asking us about our own childhood memories, so we shared tales of our own adventures and misadventures, evoking laughter and nostalgia. As we continued our walk, we stumbled onto the pond, where we fed the ducks, their quacking and playful splashing only adding to the cheerful soundtrack of this day that was a whirlwind of emotions.
As the sun began to set, we returned to the castle. We readied Cass for bed, reading her a bedtime story, her favorite one, as she drifted off to sleep. I tucked her in, leaving a soft kiss on her forehead.
“Are you coming to bed?” I asked Lil as we silently closed the door to Cass’ room.
She smiled at me, caressing my cheek. “I think I’ll go back to Father’s study and go through the rest of those scrolls.”
“Now?” I asked with a concerned frown. “It’s been a long day, Lil. Maybe you should rest and leave that for tomorrow.”
“That’s the problem,” she said, grimacing. “I doubt I would be able to fall asleep even if I did go to bed now. Maybe some more time there might help me relax and unwind. It’s all… just too much.”
“I understand,” I smiled at her, pulling her into an embrace. “Do you want me to come along?”
“No,” she shook her head. “You rest. At least you can. I’ll come shortly.”
“All right,” I said, kissing her forehead and releasing her from my embrace.
I watched her go down the corridor towards her father’s study. I knew that her desire to go back had nothing to do with the rest of the scrolls. It only had to do with that one, which I couldn’t stop thinking about either. But there was nothing I could do about it now. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow, I would see what we could do.
Chapter Four
Lilith
My father’s study has always been a special place, but it seemed to have taken on a whole new meaning. It was not a sanctuary of memories, filled with the scent of old books and the lingering presence of my late father. As I entered, the soft glow of the desk lamp greeted me. Obviously, Adrian had forgotten to switch it off. It was now casting a warm, inviting light across the room, banishing the darkness. My father’s favorite armchair sat by the window, and I couldn’t resist the urge to sit in it.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and letting the room's familiar surroundings wash over me. This place held a lifetime of stories. I remembered how my father used to sit here, sharing tales of his own adventures and dreams with me and my sister. He was a remarkable storyteller, and I had always been captivated by his words. As I looked around, my eyes settled on a family portrait on the wall. It captured a moment of pure joy - Adrian, Cass, and me, all smiling together. It was a reminder of the love that bound us, even in the face of life’s trials.
The room seemed to echo with the laughter of our little family, the secrets shared, and the moments stolen in passion, just as Adrian and I had earlier. Those moments were what made life beautiful and worth living. They were like stars in the night sky, illuminating our existence with their brilliance.
I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered the day we had spent together, our shared picnic, games, and, most importantly, our time with Cass. Her energy, her questions, and her innocence were the purest reflections of our love. They were a testament to the bond Adrian and I had built, the legacy we were leaving for her. Even though she would never get to know her aunt, my sister, the same person whose name she carried, I could see so much of my sister in her.
As I sat there in my father’s study, I knew he was still with us in spirit. He had imparted wisdom and love that we carried with us, and he would live on in the stories we told, just as he had. The study, filled with its memories and stories, was a testament to that legacy.
My eyes fell on the bookshelves that lined the room, filled with his favorite novels, history tomes, and mementoes from his life’s adventures. Feeling a surge of nostalgia and curiosity, I decided to delve into the world my father had left behind. I reached for an old leather-bound journal. Its pages were filled with his elegant handwriting, detailing his thoughts, dreams, and recollections of the places he'd visited. The stories from his travels, so vivid and inspiring, had shaped my childhood and were now a source of solace.
Next, I found a wooden box tucked away on one of the shelves. It contained a collection of postcards from around the world, each with a unique message, a piece of history that told the tale of his adventures. Holding them in my hands, I could almost feel the places he had been and the experiences he had lived. As the king, it was his duty to travel often, but at the same time, he always managed to have time for me and my sister.
In a drawer, I discovered a bundle of letters, beautifully preserved over the years. They were correspondence between my parents, their words filled with love and promises. It was a testament to the enduring bond they had shared, and it filled my heart with warmth.
My fingers brushed against an old, dusty map pinned to the wall, marking the journeys my father had undertaken. Each pin had a story, and I followed the trails of his exploration with awe. These were the footsteps of a man who had lived life to the fullest.
My heart felt lighter, as if I had unlocked a treasure trove of my father’s experiences. His spirit seemed to fill the room, and I could almost hear his voice sharing tales of adventure and wisdom. Hours passed as I delved deeper into his personal artifacts, each one telling a piece of his life story. The study, once a sanctuary of memories, had now become a portal to his world, a world that had become my own.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and it brought me back from my thoughts. I walked over to it to open, and as I did so, I was met with the warm smile of an old servant who had dedicated her life to the castle. She had known my father well, and the connection between us was evident in her eyes.
“I am so sorry to interrupt you, Your Highness,” she spoke tenderly and with an apologetic note. “But I noticed the light under the door. I thought it had to be you.”
Only now did I notice that she was carrying a silver tray with a dainty little teacup and teapot.
“I thought you might appreciate a cup of warm tea. I know that nights can be long when one is deep in thought.”
I returned the smile and graciously accepted the tea. “Thank you, Iris. It is very thoughtful of you. Why don’t you come in for a moment?” I suggested and moved away from the door, allowing her in.
She did as I bid her, walking over to a nearby sofa and sitting down. She folded her hands in her lap. She seemed a little uncomfortable, just like I was, to be here, without my father. She looked around, and I could see that she felt the same way.
“He was a remarkable man, your father,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of years spent in his presence. “Kind-hearted and wise, he always had a way of making everyone feel valued.”
I nodded in agreement, my own heart swelling with affectionate memories. “Yes, he was truly special. His wisdom was unmatched, and he had a way of guiding me through life’s challenges with grace and patience.”
