Elise LaRoux spent her days aboard the Mourning Reign the same way she spent most of her days: In a dark room, alone.
Over the years, the rooms had changed. Growing up in the chateau, Elise had had a wonderful bedchamber at the top of the grand staircase, with a canopy bed, and shelves of books which stretched so high she needed a ladder to reach them. But, even in that room which she had thought of as her sanctuary, the windows had been forever covered with dark, velvet curtains – sewn shut, lest she try to open them – and even the lamps had shades so thick that they barely cast enough light to read by, so that Elise would have to hold her books just inches from her nose, and, even then, she squinted to read them.
Her room at the chateau had been her sanctuary. But it had also been her prison.