horse drawn carriage by beexxohh | Flickr
They’re meant to have left for the hunt nearly an hour hence, but the child has still not emerged from her room. Typical. She must know she’s holding up the entire household—and how important this is to her father. Marguerite steals another glance at the Monsieur. His face is stormy; his immaculate black shoes tap the floor with increasing impatience. Marguerite would go find the child herself if it wouldn’t mean crossing his line of vision . . .
After what feels like a fortnight, Mellian finally arrives. The room freezes.
She is the vainest child Marguerite has ever known, but today her hair hangs limp and stringy. Dark circles ring her eyes. And she is wearing an absurd brown dress that makes her look sallow and ill. Where did she even get such a thing? A tension headache mounts Marguerite’s shoulders. She looks at Marais, again. His jaw clenches.
by P. L. WATTS
by TIM FRANK
by PHOENIX DESIMONE
by REBECCA GOMEZ FARRELL
by LEE DOUGLAS
by TOTI O'BRIEN
by LEAH MUELLER
by KEITH FRADY
Escape From Spiderhead
George Saunders / The New Yorker
Behind the Hand - Keoni Cabral- Flickr
© Intrinsick 2015-2020