Of all the mourners for the dead King, none was as vociferous as Lady Greenmeadow, recently la barone. All of her hopes and dreams had hinged on marrying His Majesty and becoming the next Queen. And if fortune had smiled on her, perhaps the mother of the next King. Instead, she was to be bundled up again and removed from Court. From her window, Pirouette could hear her sobs as she waited for her coach to depart.
A small part of Pirouette envied Lady Greenmeadow. At least she would be able to return to her home and family. For an instant, Pirouette felt a sharp pang of hiraeth– a longing for the home she’d left behind some years ago- a nostalgia for the glades where she played as a child. If GarGar had known her thoughts, he would have chided her. “Such a place never really existed, my dear,” is what he would have said. In this case, he would be right.
