Reason told her that it had not been more than a day, but already it seemed an eternity. She could be patient. She had to be. But there was, under the loneliness of waiting, the ever present fear that he might never return. He was, after all, a small boy, barely seven years old. It might happen that he was too afraid to come again, that he found it too upsetting, or that he was fearful of his father’s anger. It could even be that the children had been taken away for a visit somewhere. What would happen then? How long would it be before she gave up all hope? She began to pace the small room again, briskly this time, as much to keep frightening thoughts from her mind as to dispel the cold that was already seeping into her bones. She knew she must do something to stop herself descending into despair. Closing her eyes she thought of Merlin. She had heard his voice at the start of her incarceration but, though she had opened her mind to him and listened for his whisper in her ear, he had been silent of late.
