Brock swallowed thickly as he approached her tall wardrobe in the corner, but he didn’t open it. Instead, he reached up on tiptoe and ran his hand over the edges of its top. His fingers trailed through a thick layer of dust before bumping against a small wooden box.
He grasped it carefully and brought it down to inspect. The box was carved with vines that had been painted green. The craftsmanship of the box was so well done that he half expected the vines to curl up and twist around his fingers. He had seen it often as a boy when his mother had been preparing for a fine night out at a ball or a dinner with guests here at the castle.
He set the box down on his mother’s vanity and opened the lid. The inside of the box held a dozen pieces of jewelry. He sifted through the various bits insid
