The year of our Lord, 1192
…She should’ve been more careful.
“Peter, I’m so sorry. I would’ve told you. If you’d only taken me with you, I would have.”
He watched her for a moment, confusion clouding his battle glare, then he looked at John instead. “We need to talk somewhere private.”
“The solar,” John said.
Peter took Zipporah by the hand and she went with him, her stomach twisted. He paused at the threshold of her father’s solar before walking in. The desk was littered with papers that Gilburn had left behind. Peter frowned as he looked around the unorganized room. It was his solar now. His desk. His papers.
His mess…
Darcy Branwyn 
Leave a comment