I waited. I waited so long for the knock upon the door to come. And yet it did not. A letter I wrote, I wrote of matters of the heart. And now they cannot be unsaid.
The Watch did not come for me. I would not be sitting here in my study, writing these words if I had. The pages of this book are running thin. Soon, no longer will they bear witness to my conflicts and turmoils. All things must come to an end, this life is finite.
I'm still not sure how, but we reconciled. My childhood friend and I. The words which choked me were uttered, finally.
But I still feel unsettled. I could not bear for her to think those things of me.
She thought that I would harm her children. Béma's sake. How could she think that of me? To insist that I am not the monster I think I am and at the same time think me capable of such deeds. It is puzzling to me. Perhaps if it were another, I would've killed the maid. But children? Could I truly rest with that upon my conscience.
It does not bear thinking about. The celebration rapidly approaches. It is also time I must decide which of my guardsmen I am going to lay off. I will need to hire new men. I need to reach a decision as well upon whether or not to acquire the services of the company upon the hill. I am still keeping my own books. No doubt the man from Trestlebridge I intended to employ has moved on. In truth, I do not think I am ready to trust. I do not trust.
I find it difficult to write of matters, let alone speak of them. The self-professed 'lord' I am still not certain as to whether I will strike against.
Gods, the conversations we've had. My childhood friend and I. I do not think they will e'er be simple. Straightforward.
She is fair, she is warm. She is kind. I think all is well now between us. She is right, I have not been living. I have been afraid to. I do not know what to do. Perhaps it is just as well this book is coming to an end.
There is a beginning, though in truth the conflicts of my mind began in earnest long before putting pen to these pages. There is a very long middle. But is there a conclusion? I have read this journal from cover to cover. I fear there is not. There'll be no happily ever after when it comes down to it. I was ready to face the consequences of my actions. The things I said in that house, which could have been so easily overheard. It seems I have got off lightly from them. They did not hear.
Being without her, was a feeling most terrible.
Though now we are again friends, now that we both speak of mutual love. I almost wish I could turn back again. This is ridiculous.
Two more pages, what to fill them with I wonder.
