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promise no one will bother us. If they do& well, by now the story of the fountain will have circulated the palace and city
twice. No one will bother us."
Chapter Nine
"Your Grace, you look simply stunning& "
"Beautiful& "
Gael let the women mutter and murmur, thanking them absently, reminding himself they were only being nice, or more likely
trying to comfort themselves. Pointing out to them that his beauty had very little to do with the fact that he could be dead in
sixteen days would accomplish nothing.
Nor, he told himself for the millionth time, would it do to scream at them for accidentally sticking him with their confounded
pins.
Queen grant him mercy, he hated being fitted for clothes. Especially formal clothes, because that usually meant he lost an
entire day's worth of work and didn't he have enough to do without having to stand and get pricked to death only so he
could look beautiful when he was killed by his own sisters because no one ever knew what happened on the day of the
Ceremony and if they stuck him one more time-
His snarl of pain must have finally alerted the seamstresses to their slow torture, for their quiet murmurs over his beauty
turned into abject apologies. Gael hid a wince, feeling bad, for they'd been hard at work for the past four hours while all he
did was stand around and silently complain. "Please, my dears, I was more startled than anything. Your work is coming
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along splendidly, to judge by my reflection in the mirror. This coat& " More white and gold, but at least they'd threaded it with
some green& all the same, when he was finished he was never wearing any of these colors again. He was going to forbid
anyone to wear them in his presence.
Except Noire. He was going to forbid Noire wear clothing period.
Stiffing a sigh, Gael sternly reminded himself that, on top of everything else, pining over his lover was not going to help. It
didn't keep him from wishing that Noire was about, maybe sitting in the corner teasing him, making quiet suggestions as to
the private fitting they could do later& Gael bit back a frustrated curse and shifted his thoughts back to all the work that
wasn't getting done.
That he quickly gave up for a lost cause. He had set aside today for his fittings, because if he'd put it off any longer the
seamstresses would likely have had kittens - never mind they were all geese.
Inevitably his thoughts wandered to the reason for the fitting, the pin pricking. The Ceremony&
He knew how it went, what they were technically doing& in theory, anyway.
The Pegasus for the strength of the people - strength against calamity, strength against strife, strength to stand against all
obstacles. Upon the wings of the Pegasus rests the will of the people to survive and prosper no matter what seeks to
weaken them.
The Unicorn for the purity of the people - purity of the body, to fight against disease and weakness. Purity of the land to
fight against blight and tragedy. Purity of the spirit, to live true to one's heart. Upon the horn of the Unicorn rests the will of
the people to live and flourish no matter what seeks to poison their spirit.
The Faerie Queen for the harmony of the people - strength and purity united, to prosper and flourish no matter what strife
or tragedy strikes, to stand as one until the end of time. Upon the wings of the Faerie Queen rest all the children of Verde,
beautifully and perfectly united.
Once, centuries ago, the three gods of Verde had gathered together in their sacred room and cast a blessing that ensured
prosperity for Verde and all the world& just as the Basilisk carefully watched over death, as Zhar Ptitka saw the souls were
properly reborn, as the Storm Dragons kept reign on the turbulent sky and seas that the countries were always somehow
connected.
Except such blessings had not been cast in more than a thousand years. Instead, every hundred or so the sacred chamber
wound up soaked in the blood of those who should be casting the blessings.
If his good mood was not already gone, thinking of the Ceremony would have neatly killed it. Mercy of the Queen, was this
how every other Unicorn had felt? Nervous? Sick? Angry? Restless?
So lonely he could not bear it.
With a rough sound, Gael motioned for the women to stop. "Enough, my dears. You have been working hard, and I do not
think I was ever meant to hold still. We will resume after lunch, hmm?"
The women giggled and obediently halted in their work, taking off the carefully pinned clothes and carrying everything away.
Sighing in relief, Gael stepped down from the cushioned stool on which he'd been made to stand and retrieved his clothes,
sliding into his shirt and tugging on his breeches, then sitting down to pull on his boots.
He was just starting on his shirt when someone rapped on the door. Biting back an urge to inform the knocker there was no
one in the room - so few of his Beasts had anything resembling a sense of humor, and only they would knock that loudly
upon the door - Gael sighed, stood, and bid the knocker enter.
"Your Grace?"
It was almost gratifying, the way Seraphin stayed uncertainly near the door, as if somehow able to sense that Gael was in a
foul mood.
Earl Seraphin Bellerose, the White Mongoose, and right now one of only three people in the palace Gael did not want to kill
or at least make suffer. "Yes, Seraphin?"
"I thought you might like to address the storm brewing downstairs."
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AmaSour Fiction
Gael finished buttoning his shirt and retrieved the rest of his clothes, quickly knotting his cravat before shrugging into his
afternoon jacket. "I suppose simply throwing them into the river is out of the question?"
Seraphin quickly smothered a laugh, though he could not quite kill the humor that danced in his hazel eyes. "Your orders,
Grand Duke, are inviolate." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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