Bardolf had gone and Amroye was confused.

This was her life, her future. Her father, kind in his own way, had duties and obligations. As did she. If not Bardolf, then – another.

Lost in thought she wandered the crumbling ramparts and smoke shadowed halls of Bleak Swale. Her home, her childhood, the ancient castle and high moors sometimes felt like a prison. To leave, and not return…

Bardolf – charming and attentive. His personal retinue was larger than her father’s entire household.

It came down to this: She did not love him, and he didn’t care.

~

#28 in the ‘Beyond the Streets‘ sequence – a series of 100-word flash fictions.