The Red Robes were watching the crowd. If she were caught using the secret passageway, no excuse would spare her.
Category: general fiction
This Textured Darkness, #53
“Ah, the little Shivelite girl,’ Lord Birknell sounded sympathetic while peering down her bodice. “May I be of assistance?”
This Textured Darkness, #52
“I must find my handkerchief. I lost it in the press of the crowd.” Mirella said.
“You’ve got a secret,” Bresca’s eyes narrowed.
This Textured Darkness, #51
Fresco’s eyes, described by the poet’s as limpid pools, were now surprisingly alert.
This Textured Darkness, #50
“No wonder the skinny chit remembered him,” remarked a raven haired beauty. “Did you notice his codpiece?
This Textured Darkness, #49
The crowd was a river of confusion, pushing Mirella where she didn’t want to go.
This Textured Darkness, #48
“Give Oren Hunter a room full of air and light. Fresh rushes and women to attend his bathing.”
This Textured Darkness, #47
‘I’ve witness the Spring Calling of Spirits. I’ve seen the Gibbor open the night sky and call the spirits down.”
This Textured Darkness, #46
Queen Laveth had mentioned they needed an extra pair of hands and then the girl had appeared.
This Textured Darkness, #45
Oren whipped his head around, nearly losing his footing. It was the girl from the scrub oak, only she was a woman now.
