Adel
entered, strapping on her sword. "You promised."
Justen
paused to take her in. She no longer looked as though a sword belonged on her
hip. She had changed so much since losing her brother, and transitioning from brawny
warrior, a signet flourishing. Gone, the abrupt warrior cut. Her
hair, once as dark as a thoroughbred's, now golden with red highlights, reached
well below her shoulders. It was tied back for riding, half-hidden in
Dyfydian-blue silk. Her eyes glinted amber in the lazy flutter of the sconce.
Her thinned face highlighted a grace he had never noticed before. She stood
tall, shoulders back. Her riding vest, instead of hiding her femininity, thrust
her breasts into a dare.
"I'm
sorry. What did you say?"
"You
promised."
About what?
She
pointed to the regalia two steps away.
"I
lied. If they can't figure out I'm no peasant, I'm not going to bash anyone
about the head with pageantry."
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Great excerpt! Best of luck.
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