I sat there, still shocked at the news that the messenger had just delivered to me. I could not believe it. I had heard nothing of the matter until just now. I paced my fancy, overfurnished room, pondering about what should be done. After a moments thought, I decided to go downstairs to find my mother and father, the king and queen. As I walked down the stairs, I didn't have even the slightest urge to slide down the banister, as I had done often as a child. A bad sign for me, who loves the sensation of flying down stair railings, that something was seriously wrong.

I found my mother and father sitting in one of the many rooms we have in the palace just for decoration. Sitting side by side on a long couch, my mother was sobbing, as I had expected, and my father was trying to comfort her. I had mixed feelings about the matter. I had hardly known the woman, and, with my upbringing, I was not prepared to deal with this kind of matter.

I had lived all my life in the palace, rarely going out, and when I did, I traveled in a coach with curtains over the windows, hearing noises of cheering outside, always with my parents close by. I grew up with happiness, with parties and playing. I knew hardly anything of the outside world, carefully protected by servants. The greatest of sadness I knew was when my favorite nanny left the palace, for my sister and I had outgrown the need. I knew nothing of death, until recently. Until now.

For a messenger of sad tidings had entered to give the royal family the news of an important merchant's wife, who my mother had known well. From her, I had learned she was a special woman, one full of happiness who brought joy upon others, always having a twinkle in her eye. So that was why me mother was sobbing uncontrollably when the messenger brought the news that the special woman who my mother had loved dearly, was dead.