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Prologue

Herrmann Manor

Mainz, Germany

1941

“Your sister tells ain”

Christofer’s hand stilled in mid-slash over the backside of the parchment that he’d been forced to reuse, the fresh charcoal lines blurred by the stains seeping through the thin ht hesitation, he continued e seared in his er than befitted a six year old girl’s face

“There’s nothing htly closer to the fireplace so that he could see better, but far enough away so that the heat wouldn’t curl the parchment in his hands

“I see,” his father istered the sounds of one of the crystal decanters on the side table being picked up “Did you at least win?” his father asked, sounding thoughtful as he poured whiskey into a crystal glass

“No, Father,” Christofer answered, not bothering to look up as he reached for the glass that he kneaiting for him

“But you didn’t run,” his father clarified as he lowered himself to sit by Christofer in front of the fire

Chuckling, Christofer looked up as he took a sip of whiskey, welco amber fire down his throat as he studied his father, still in his well-tailored suit, sitting by hireat hall In any other castle it would have been an unusual sight to see the lord of thein his finest on the cold stone floor, but not here

His earliestdown by his side late one night after he’d sneaked out of the nursery to draw horrible chalk figures on the sreat hall’s floor Since that night, his father and he had created a tradition of sorts He would sneak out of his roohts out of his head and place them onto parchment became too much For his part, his father would sit by hi hi responsibility in his life was to sit by his son and watch hies inside his head come to life

“No, Father, I certainly didn’t run,” he said, shifting a bit and trying not to wince when the ed at his sore ribs

“Good,” was all his father said as he took a slass

Christofer didn’t bother to tell his father that the boys had all been younger than hireat pleasure in tore freak as they liked to call him when his father wasn’t around to hear them, and he never would His father liked to pretend that he was a normal sixteen-year old boy on the cusp of ive it up even if it meant that his father would put an end to his daily torment