It was only a woman come to clean, who had somehow brought billows of purple smoke. Or maybe it was the candles. Two hundred candles, and by the time the wicks were burning low.
Tag: fantasy
This Textured Darkness, #113
Elymas placed the goblet on the tray and rubbed his eyes with his fists. Had he seen a woman sporting three boars’ heads at the entrance doors?
This Textured Darkness, #112
The finest practitioners in Casoria hadn’t succeeded in curing Ranald. Elymas chuckled. He’d stood before them all and handed the King his nightly draught of poison.
This Textured Darkness, #111
A cheeky youth who, every time their eyes met, winked or flashed a suggestive smile. Running his tongue over his lips, Elymas, on impulse, offered to buy him. He hadn’t anticipated the rage.
This Textured Darkness, #110
Tonight, he’d poisoned the High King as well as his annoying councilor, Fulcruchen. Rage had prompted him.
This Textured Darkness, #109
The fire tempted her. She felt as she had at the Hungry Rocks and wanted to bath in it like water. She took a step forward.
This Textured Darkness, #107
On the morning of the 8th day, they’d untied her and she managed to feed him herself, allowing him to nurse as long as he wanted so he wouldn’t cry when present to the Tu’el.
That Textured Darkness, 106
He said, “If you do not rid yourself of this child, bring it to me after it is born, and I will give you a new name. But remember, I will take only what you give.”
This Textured Darkness, #105
The cry of a carrion crow brought him out of his reverie. He realized that while he’d been staring at her, she’d been staring at him.
This Textured Darkness, #104
His soldiers had been getting restless, so he’d allowed them to raze the village of Grassley. The girl had been brought back with the latest cache of slaves.
