“Tina, my dear,” he had said, his voice a dry rustle of old parchment. “When the final chime comes, don’t mourn. Just close the front door and let the flowers grow over the gates.”
He looked not as he had at the end—fragile, faded, a clock running on whispers. He looked as he did in the old portraits: tall, sharp-featured, with eyes like blue embers and a faint, crooked smile. Tina the Bunny Maid -Final- By MikiY
One more day. Tina’s whiskers trembled. A single, perfect day. She thought of all the mornings she had served him tea in the Sunroom, the way his hollow eyes would brighten when she added three lumps of sugar. She thought of the library, where they had read tales of lost kingdoms, and the greenhouse where she had grown moon-carrots just to make him laugh. “Tina, my dear,” he had said, his voice
She did not look back.
“Master?” she called, her voice a soft chime in the vast, empty hall. “Lord Alistair?” He looked as he did in the old