My first memory of love came around the time I was five, or maybe six, years old. I remember standing upon a balcony of the Northern Estate, peeking up over the banister and catching my first glimpse of the world that lay beyond. Granted, I couldn’t see much – and what I saw wasn’t exactly groundbreaking – but still, it was something more than I’d ever experienced since the first day I had waddled from my crib, taking to my knees as though they were hawk’s wings and soaring across the marble floors, or at least it was told to me that way.There were fields of green and gold waiting beyond the railing of that balcony. Servants worked in those fields, harvesting fruits and wheat and spices like torf; a
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