Syria’s POV
“Let’s place it here,” he said, bringing the rocking chair nearer to the window.
The afternoon sun was shining beautifully. It looked soft and comforting, but not overly illuminated.
After we completed breakfast, we washed the dishes together and organized the dining space. The servants had offered to help, of course, but I turned them down. We made the mess, therefore, we should clean it.
I was watching him drape a warm wool blanket over the chair, I couldn’t help but ask, “What’s our plan here?”
“Just trust me,” he replied with that enigmatic subtle smile of his. He motioned for me to take a seat beside him, right next to the window where the sunlight streamed in.
I tilted my head, curious, while he retrieved something hidden beneath his arm.
It was a book.
He opene
