That was the right adjective for the emotions that tormented her. She wasn’t exactly bored, for there were enough things in the tower to amuse her, but such amusements felt like a guilty pleasure when she knew there was a war in the works and she was most decidedly a pawn. She was still surrounded by treasure, her meals were still delivered by a stoic man bent on avoiding conversation, and the nights were cold and lonely. It had been two weeks now since she had been locked in the tower, and Wormwood had not been up to see her 10 days. Amber woke up early and frowned at the awning above her.
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