Episode 22

The air in the small, meticulously kept room was always tinged with the scent of dried herbs and the faint, sweet perfume of the wild roses that climbed the stone walls outside Amalie's window. Years had passed since the terrifying giant with eyes like a winter sky had first entered her life, and in that time, the fear had softened, replaced by a quiet, almost unquestioning acceptance. She was Amalie, the girl who could not walk, the girl who lived in a hidden corner of the formidable castle, the girl who was visited by the formidable Prince Vlad.

Today, the Prince was here. He sat on a low stool, his immense frame somehow managing to seem less imposing in the confined space. His gaze, usually sharp and assessing, was softened as he watched her. Amalie, her fingers nimble and quick, was weaving a small basket from reeds. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her tongue peeking out slightly between her lips.

"You grow skilled, little bird," Vlad's voice rumbled, a sound that had once sent shivers down her spine but now felt like the deep purr of a contented cat. He held out a hand, rough and scarred, and Amalie looked up, a shy smile gracing her lips. She offered him the nearly finished basket.