“Am I not Your Sovereign?” I could not see His eyes, but I
could feel the kindness emanating from them. His gentle tones soothed me,
smoothed the frayed edges of emotion, and wrought peace from fear.
I was eager to please Him. “You are, my Liege.” A pause,
then, “Why do I so often forget?”
“My child,” He replied, deep and soft, “what are you looking
at?”
I frowned in confusion. “I can’t see you, my Lord.”
“I am Here. What are you looking at?”
“How can I see You, Lord? You’re not there!”
“What are you looking at, Merit-Royalle?”
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