February 23rd, 2011

half shadow

The Prince’s Boy: 83

83: Kenet

I was sitting up in a tangle of blankets on a sleeping pallet when Marksin came into the tent carrying a silver tray. He set it down next to me on a trunk and I saw it held a silver wine cup.

“I know it is better fresh from the source,” he said, “but…”

“Thank you, Marksin,” I said, and drank it before I could think about it much more. It was cold and thick, and had the scent of heartbreak. But I was now done with tears.

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