"Fleeing the Party"
She felt trapped. The people were closing in on her, she couldn't breathe, her heart was pounding. She dropped her champagne glass and, when it shattered on the flagstone path, everyone turned to stare at her, their faces fading in and out of focus. She could think of nothing but escape. She slipped out of the garden, skirted around the edge of the house hoping no one would notice her disappearance, and practically ran to the edge of the woods.
In the trees, she took slow, deep breaths, calming herself. From here, the music could still be heard, but it was a gentle whisper on the wind. The voices settled into a low drone.
It had been a long afternoon, tiring. It was too hard to keep her smile in place, to accept all the congratulations and well-wishes, to hold Jacob's hand through it all. Jacob. He would be wondering where she was, and she had no doubt that he...
Image: Luis Royo
"Dragon Warrior"
Kelsera walked into the hall, graceful and dangerous, a shield with her tribe's crest emblazoned on it across her back, an intricately carved sword at her side. For a moment, he regretted his decision to employ this woman. She scared him, as much as he hated to admit it. "My lord," she bowed low, but the hard glint in her eyes and the mocking half-smile on her lips let him know that she was merely obeying custom, no more subservient than a tiger to a mouse. Fat and pampered, he sat behind his heavy oak table, pushing aside the stack of papers that he had been contemplating and studying her. The warrior, for make no mistake she was a warrior at heart not the mercenary she currently presented herself as, had tattoos on her face and body that she didn't bother covering, markings clearly showing that she still believed in the old ways, the old gods. His...
"She Arrives Tomorrow"
The soft tap startled them both. Michael frowned, briefly, before cinching his robe around his waist and rising from the long, low sofa to answer the door. "Your mother wishes to speak to you, my prince." His valet bowed and headed down the corridor, his soft-soled shoes soundless on the thick carpet.
"Damn," Michael muttered under his breath, closing the door. "I have to go see what she wants," he muttered to the young man still lying on the couch, his cobalt satin robe hanging open, barely draped across his lap. Michael ran his hand along the man's bare leg as he passed by on the way into the bedroom of his suite. "The old crow," he added, to low to be heard.
After dressing, Michael stalked down the familiar halls to the Queen's chambers. He was let in by one of her maids, who the politely disappeared into one of the back rooms, leaving him alone with his mother.
"Michael,"...
"At the Pool"
Steam rose from the pool. She tossed in several lavender bouquets and inhaled the fragrance. Slowly she slipped the silk robe from her shoulders, laying it on the bench, and stepped down into the bath. As she sank into the water, she felt the stress of the day melt away, replaced by the soothing warmth. The afternoon had been long and tedious, but the formal dinner that followed was interminable. Finally she had escaped, pleading a blinding headache. She lowered herself into the water, sat on the stone stairs, and closed her eyes, allowing her thoughts drift away from the trade negotiations that had occupied her earlier.
She heard a deep, rumbling purr from the bank. She looked up to see a huge tiger standing on the bank, staring at her. Its amber eyes reflected the moonlight and he growled, a low menacing sound, and padded into the surrounding trees. Moments passed, she heard nothing, and the moon couldn't...
"To Lay Down His Sword"
It had come. Today was the day he had been dreaming of and fearing, the day he would lay down his sword.
He had been chosen on the day he was born. It had been the seventh day of the seventh month, an auspicious day. The priests had taken him to the temple, where he had lived for the last 18 years. He had learned much. He was able to read and write, to understand the symbols that adorned the holy spaces and the Queen's dwelling. They had taught him how to fight, armed and in hand-to-hand combat, to protect the people of the village, the temple, and, most importantly, the royal family. He was strong and, he knew, handsome.
He placed his sword on the stone table and joined the other two young men facing the altar. One would receive the ultimate honor and be sacrificed to the gods. One would become a true priest, allowed into...
"On James Street"
This job was more difficult than she had anticipated. The dealer had not informed her that the long-abandoned city was falling, sinking into the sea. The towers collapsing, buildings that had stood for centuries being pulled under the waves. She had had to dive into the muddy water and swim through a window of the old palace. Even in the murkiness, the sword had shown, glowing with an inner fire from the algae coated wall where it had been left in the rush to evacuate. She had grabbed it and surfaced, gasping for air. After handing the weapon to her brother, she pulled herself onto the rooftop where he waited.
The sword was marvelous. For ceremonies, not battles, the hilt was encrusted with jewels, intricate carvings covered the blades, it practically pulsed with power. The legendary Gladius, forged by dwarves, set with gems from a dragon's hoard, engraved with the words of victory, but only for the worthy. And...