Faint sobbing could be heard when a silent attendant led Augustus into the sitting room. Though he was naturally curious, the crown prince was mollified that he did not recognize the weeping voice as his sisters. It was only after he had sat that it occurred to him that perhaps, his sister could be the cause of this person's sorrow.
But there was a raw quality to these wails as if something irreplaceable had been lost rather than torture or punishment. Augustus hated that he was able to distinguish that much as he took a tentative seat at the end of a stylish, low couch, too at edge to relax.
Rubbing his weary eyes, the crown prince watched as his sister slowly entered with a troubled expression.
"My nursemaid," she said in lieu of a greeting, still in the same clothes from the tea party. "Her nephew has passed."
"Passed?"
"Well, he was killed. In the village you visited." Winter sat down heavily next to him.
