fiction – Page 16 – Joan Spilman

This Textured Darkness, #19

The Seer had caught him coming from Nadia’s tent before he’d relieved himself.

“Wolves from the Nevers,” the boy broke his silence. “Father told me to run.”

The scepter was held by a dying man.

He caught Laveth stealing wood from the royal forest, but rather than hanging her, Ranald took her to bed.

“Why do you think I brought you here?” he shouted.
“To propose?” Agnes stepped out from behind the bush, fully clothed but mostly unbuttoned.

“I’ll send a feather dyed blue, its color changed from beyond. When you receive it, know that King Rand has been granted a path in the Deep.”

Agnes fell into his arms, and he’d taken off her clothes with an adeptness that was surprising for a country boy. Raw, green, fresh off the farm.

“I remember my father as a plunging warhorse. Fearless, but not always wise.”

With wide eyes, Agnes listened to the most ingenious plan she’d ever heard. Cora lived in an “in case of emergency” mode.

“As well as any knocking against the void. He suffers. He yearns.”