When she finished her blessing she peered up at me and said simply, “Wait for him.” She raised her arms like a child asking to be lifted up, and immediately two guards stepped forward to assist her. She clutched my hands in hers and repeated her advice, an old woman telling a young woman to take care of her husband. “Wait for him,” she pressed, and there was an urgency that belied her simple advice. Wait for who? I asked, unable to help myself, even if she couldn’t hear my question. “The King, Milady,” she answered instantly, and a smile broke across her face, creating a thousand creases to
...more