Their days are filled with studies. Of histories, in praise of long-dead lords and kings. Of the words of Saint Ajora, and the promise of Eternal Light.

Their nights are spent in cloistered chambers, 'neath tapestries depicting lives far more glorious than theirs, and that do little to stem the drafts that creep through cold stone.

Only within the in-betweens, the evenings after supper and the afternoons of holy days, are they allowed the freedom of the garden, where Alma crafts her princess crowns of flowers and kisses her with far more reverence than any retainer Ovelia has ever known.