words

Elsa of the House

The frost is here. Earlier than I would ever have expected and somehow I feel it reflects the unsettling emotions of the Great House inhabitants.
I was holding out on the first blow of winter and now that it has come I miss the summer air so much.

I have not seen Prince Albir for three days, now.
Perhaps he has fallen through a crack or melted into the walls.

This is such a frustratingly isolated place! The prince's presence here has put the acknowledgement into my mind. I never gave a thought to it before and I've begun to obsess over a way to defeat the lonlieness, especially the kind that creeps in with the wintertime.
Prince Albir is still waiting for news of his mother's death. I wonder sometimes if a miraculous recovery is not possible, since Great House gossip knows nothing of the illness or what caused it. Cook has taken to adding special spices to the prince's tea in a poor attempt to alleviate... or at least to defy monotony. Thera tried to persuade me to visit the prince's room--the brash, insensitive, careless girl. To even think of attempting such a thing without reason or invitation. If I had an excuse, perhaps... still, I feel as though I am on thin ice already. Who knows but I may lose my station here if I continue to act on impulse. If anyone else knew of my behavior, unreasonable suggestions and implications would arise and that would be the end of me. If there's one thing I've learned about bored, uneducated people living in close quarters, it's to expect the absurd.