“I’m never going to make it,” I cried as I shrank into the narrow chair of my desk. With my legs hunched up and my face tucked between my knees, tears began to trickle down my cheeks as a feeling of inability took hold of me. 

“Opening one of them, he searches until his hand closes on the small brown pouch. His body shudders when his fingers slide inside the pouch and touch the cold metal. He knows it isn’t right, he knows he shouldn’t take it—yet without hesitation he hides the pouch beneath his tunic and closes the chest.”

“The sudden shift in the king’s expression takes me by surprise. Rather than the fierce stare of a hunter eyeing his prey, his expression gets tainted with deep emotions I cannot yet understand. His eyes grow red and teary. He says nothing for a moment, like lost in memories I dare not interrupt.”