Letters
Dearest Wren,
With each letter, you stoke the flames of my curiosity all the more. I agree with your definition of secrets, and must confess that your assessment of me carrying many is correct.
I’m not sure the weight of them is heavy after bearing them for so long. I don’t know if I have gotten stronger or become numb. A riddle for another day, I suppose.
My mother has a garden full of flowers back home. There’s a path lined with peonies that you would love. I’m partial to yellow roses.
How is your essay about me coming along? Is it difficult to contain my magnificence in words? Perhaps you could include a painting. I’m happy to sit for one at your convenience.
Ever your pompous prince,
Castien
Ps. I’m sure you have noticed the nature of this letter’s delivery is different from our usual manner. It seems our peers have taken notice of our exchange. Let’s endeavor to escape their awareness from now on.