Simon had been contained to Birkhall: away from his wife. From his children. They were safer with him away, he told himself, though his heart ached to have them so far away. Mercifully, Birkhall had a library of some substance—though not nearly what he was accustomed to at hte palace—so Kelton was able to provide him with some amount of diversion. Kelton: never had he appreciated the man so much until now. He was not just an assistant, but a stedfast companion.

It was in the small library that they sat now, Kelton reading to Simon as he sat. Perhaps a prouder man would have felt liek a child being given a bedtime story, but Simon had always had a thoroughly practical approach to his disability.

When he heard the unexpected voice, he startled. Kelton too, dropping the book to the table.

“Who is it?” Simon barked in his usual gruff tone.