Chapter 166 The Price Of Independence

• Hollis
• Just after sunset, I drop into a thick, upholstered armchair in Father’s private sitting room as he finishes pouring two steaming mugs of mulled wine. The smells of clove and nutmeg make my mouth water.
• He joins me, offers me one mug, and takes the other armchair in front of the leaping fire. I fold my hands around the clay gratefully. It’s a little too hot to hold, but after almost six fucking hours on the wall, even I’m cold. Father refuses to show any weakness, but I see the slight chatter in his teeth as he lifts his mug to his mouth.