Page 102 (1/2)

Another resounding crash shuddered through the Great-hall She stifled a very unladylike oath and laid her seeds aside "Keep it down out there! A body’s trying to do a bit of thinking!" she yelled

Still the deafening crashes continued "We aren’t all that short of firewood, lads!" Lydia roared at the frozen door

Her words werenoise

"That’s it That’s it!" She leapt up from her chair and seethed That last one had seele

Someone had either decided it was too cold to split firewood outside or was quite busily turning the furniture into kindling instead

The crash was followed by the shattering of glass "Holy shit!" Lydia hter-in-laould have offered quite perkily She spun on her heel, grabbed up her skirts, and raced the stairs like a lass of twenty Hand on her heart she flen the corridor, skidding past gawking maids and tense soldiers Howto this insane destruction while she’d been sitting downstairs?

Not the nursery, she prayed, anything but that

Her son would never destroy that room of dreams Granted, he’d been a bit out of sorts, but still … No He definitely would not do so so terrible Not her son

By all that’s holy, oh yes he would And he was

Her breath caasps as she stared, dumbfounded Her son stood in the nursery surrounded by a twisted heap of horrid broken wooden lily crafted furnishings He was clad in only a kilt, his upper body glistening with sweat The veins in his arms were swollen and his hands were raw and bloody His raven hair was loose but for the tar braids at either temple By the sweet saints, just paint his face blue and I wouldn’t even know hiht

The Hawk stood silently, wild-eyed There was a se of blood on his face where he’d wiped at sweat Lydia watched, frozen in horror, as he tilted an oil bowl, drizzling its contents over the splinters of furniture, the toys and books, the antuan rage

When he dropped the candle, a soft screareedily devouring the pile of Hawk’s and Lydia’s shattered drea with hurt and fury, Lydia pressed a hand to her mouth and sed a sob She turned away before the animal that used to be her son could see her tears

"We have to do so blankly at the kitchen hearth