Isabelle sat in her room. "Has dawn come yet?" she asked. Her eyes where wide and her hands where clasped tightly in her lap.
"No," Skye said quietly. "Dawn has not come yet."
"Oh Skye, he will die and it will be awful."
Skye said nothing. She was standing at the window. It was the darkest hour before dawn but the darkest hours of her young life where yet ahead of her. On the table beside her was Henry's written permission for Skye to be on the execution platform.
Isabelle rocked back and forth, hugging herself in her grief. "I can't live without him," she whispered. "I won't live without him!" she cried wildly.
"We must," Skye whispered. "God help us, we must."
Robert the Bruce paced the rooftop of his castle. He turned. Dawn had come.
He groaned and put his head in his hands. "God, I pray that you give strength to two of the noblest beings. Give them Your strength. For today…one comes to join You."
As her maids dressed her, Skye prayed. "Mighty God," she whispered. "Help me…Help me…" She choked on a sob and pressed her hand over her mouth.
Nicolette laced up the black and gold dress. "You're ready, my lady."
"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death," Skye whispered as she went quietly down the hall. "I will fear no evil. For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."