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Snippet #5

Snippet #5

He bit back the sigh that threatened to escape his throat, leaning heavily in the cold, unyielding throne that was his perch. His eyes scanned the room around him, the dark stone, the cruel statues that peered down from the rafters overhead. It was a dark place, a foreboding place. It fit him well. 
He scowled, feeling the iron band of his crown pressing heavily into the dome of his skull. The dagger flipping between his fingers, a silver blur in the faint candlelight. His gaze rolled down to the thing clinging to the steps that lead up to his throne. She was dressed in rags, the filthy cotton gown thin and barely covering her flesh with decency. The slip of a woman looked up at him with fear in her opal, trembling eyes. She was beautiful beneath those mars of dirt and grease, her body supple and lithe beneath the folds of the tattered cotton. 
But he was the Iron king, she a serf from the village. Their world's were leagues apart, he the sun, she the dirt upon the road. His scowl deepened even further, twisting his solemn but handsome face into a cruel and frightening mask. What were his intentions?


The Iron King and the Lady Peasant

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