Listening to her speak of her children makes him smile. “You provided them a good foundation. I was fostered by my mother’s people, left to my own devices to figure my worth at an early age, and figure on how to hide that away from those around me who would not understand.” He thinks about that time, “I think when people who are destined to be tall grow, they hurt in their bones and muscles. I remember hurting like that, but it had little to do with my growing to be tall.”

Stepping through the door with her still on his arm, he is aware the doors close quietly behind them. Her will, his will, the castle’s will, does not matter, the end is the same. Privacy, and in a home the size of this, practicality in helping to keep the rooms warmth. “At times it is nice to keep to the old ways,” he admires the heavy glass and intricate structure of the window, and the colored light flooding the room.