They’d dubbed her “The Peasant Queen”.
Category: This Textured Darkness
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.
This Textured Darkness, #60
She yearned to reach out and touch him. It was an innocent wish for she was still a maid, but the need was real.
This Textured Darkness, #59
She could now run up the twisted stairs as easily as a skilled musician played a harp.
This Textured Darkness, 58
Learning to work the twisted stairs was like learning a language.
This Textured Darkness, #57
There are twenty one steps above, each designed to break a leg or crack a skull.
This Textured Darkness, #56
Releasing the gonfalon, Mirella had managed to take two steps before falling flat.
