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Post by Kriyaban on Nov 11, 2022 13:18:11 GMT
Meg stood wrapped in delicate riches and muted music. With every breath she took, with each movement she made, bells chimed softly.
“You are like a falcon made of fire,” Dominic said, looking at the play of candlelight through Meg’s hair. “And you wear golden jesses as such a magical falcon should.”
Deliberately he turned Meg until she was facing him. He looked down at her with eyes as clear and cold as springwater while he caught her face between his hands.
“Are you hungry, wife?”
“Aye,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve eaten only a piece of bread and cheese since dawn.”
With an odd smile, Dominic turned away and went to the door. He opened it and saw the cold supper he had requested that Simon bring.
“Breads, cheeses, fowl, mustard, ale…” Dominic said.
He picked up the tray and walked into the room, closing the door behind him with a casual movement of his foot.
“…figs, raisins, nutmegs, honeyed almonds,” he continued, “and a pile of raw greens whose purpose eludes me. Was Simon expecting a rabbit to join us for supper?”v
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Post by Pathfinder on Nov 28, 2022 18:21:27 GMT
“Falcons have no masters.”
“They hunt only at their lord’s pleasure.”
“Falcons hunt at their own pleasure,” Dominic countered, popping another bite of food between her lips. “Their lords simply provide an opportunity.”
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