‘How much longer could he keep her in her room?’ thought Lord Sarloom. ‘Will she ever figure out that she was indeed beautiful, even gorgeous?’

Lord Sarloom was afraid to think those words, let alone whispher those words. The wind may carry them to Alina and tell her.

‘Best just to think them, Yes, best just to think.’

-*-

In her room, Alina look out her window, a habit she had formed. She had memorized all the lines of the hills, and valleys, and mountians. She could draw the trees by heart. She traced the familiar lines of the river. She would daydream about laying in the fields of the flowers, flying in the sky, running and dancing in the ran.

If only she could get rid of that cursed curse. Why her, she thought, Why me?