Page 22 of The Nightblood Prince

Our new home was a small cottage with a thatched roof and mud walls, a stout thing at the edge of the village, perched atop a steep hill that would not be easy on my parents’ aging limbs.

“At least we have some privacy,” my mother said.

The inside wasn’t much better. Dust and cobwebs and a strange, sour stench that made my stomach turn.

My father was the first to set foot inside the house, making sure to clean up all the cobwebs around the door before we entered. I wondered what he felt now that their life in the capital was gone.

I didn’t know whether to smile or cry.

That night, when I closed my eyes, I hoped for dreams of Siwang old and gray and wise on his throne.I hoped for dreams of my parents living out their long lives in peace and serenity. I hoped for dreams of Yong’An bustling and its people content.

I should have known better than to hope.