“And where is the Shivelite girl?” the old nurse demanded. “To whom is she talking? I trust no one.”
Category: This Textured Darkness
This Textured Darkness, #69
“The babe is beautiful for now,” snapped Nan Maura. “How will he look with his throat slit?”
This Textured Darkness, #68
Mirella was late, very late. The Queen tried to control her fear by primping before her mirror, but only a mess of things, scattering both pots and jewels.
This Textured Darkness, #67
Laveth despised Open Court. The peasants always returned with the same stories; the young lords always argued.
This Textured Darkness, #66
Those who attended her fledging functions were warmly welcomed; those who chose not to come were never invited again.
This Textured Darkness, #65
They’d dubbed her “The Peasant Queen”.
This Textured Darkness, #64
Even now, she didn’t like to think about her first trip to the city. A barkeep had given her directions to the castle.
This Textured Darkness, #63
Her father had left her in the road, a bundle at her feet.
This Textured Darkness, #62
“I hear the voices every spring,” Mirella insisted. “It leads me to the Spring Calling of Spirits.”
This Textured Darkness, #61
There was no disguising the dew on her feet or the altered expression in her eyes.
