She lingers.
I see her on the tear-stained faces of servants who had served her for years.
I can smell the scent she wore in the corridor to her room, as if she had recently walked by.
I see her in the mourning draperies hung from windows throughout the city.
I see her in the sorrowful eyes and faces of my two boys.
I see her in my mirror, in my own grim, drawn face.
I see her everywhere.
There is one place which gives me respite. One place, high in the Tower, where my memories do not haunt me.