Sunday Snippet
This is from the upcoming The Unicorn & The Serpent which is a Fantasy Romance.
Cormack wanted their first meeting with the visitors to be very formal, very royal. Morgan had never had to act so in all her life, not even when her mother was alive. He sat on his throne, dressed like a king. Well, that is what he told Morgan. She had never seen such an outfit. It had a small fur cape, dyed red, attached by a big silver broach. His shirt was trimmed with lace, and the top of his boots were wrapped in more red rabbit fur. She and Agnes sat on their thrones, but they were not as dressed up as he. Agnes the Red looked like the queen she used to be, and Morgan felt more like a doll that had been dressed by four young servant girls playing house. Both women were very grumpy from all the work. The visitors arrived on time, as they had written. Three boxes on wheels pulled up to the castle entrance. Six finely dolled-up horses for each box. The townspeople had never seen anything like it. The door guards stared, bemused at the sight of them. The coachmen got off their wooden seats. One opened the door and the other got on his hands and knees. “Odd bunch,” Demus whispered. “Agreed,” Hector replied. “Hush, you two,” Grady said. A man came out using the man on the ground as a stepping stool. He turned and helped his wife out. He was very skinny and short. He was pale as fresh white snow, as if he never dared to venture out in the sun. His blondish-brown hair was cut straight around his head to his ears; it almost hid his dull blue eyes. He wore breeches and a shirt with an abundance of ruffles and lace. His sleeves puffed out to the elbows and ended in more ruffles. His wife had on layers of clothes. It looked as if she was wearing ten dresses in one. All her body was covered in either cloth or lace. She wore a giant necklace. It looked heavy, as if she would need help walking around with it. Her hair was a golden brown, done up in a bun and fastened together by her small golden crown. Her skin, too, was very white, but whiter than the king’s, for she used a powder. Her lips were bright red, as were her cheeks. Her laced hands wrapped around her husband’s arm, as she looked around with hazel eyes. “Very muddy, I hope I do not get any on my frock. It is very dull, too. Too many trees and fields. It is like our trips into the country. We should have stayed in the city.” He patted her lacy hand. “Calm yourself, dear. It is dull, but I am sure we will find the hospitality very genteel.” “I do hope you are right. Where is my Philip? Philip, come now, to my side.” “Coming, Mother,” said a very bored, high-pitched voice. A man, the age of Morgan, came out of the box. He looked around with his own blue eyes. He looked exactly like his father, from his hair to his clothing. He was a bit shorter, like his mother. “Father, I do not like this place.”
Cormack wanted their first meeting with the visitors to be very formal, very royal. Morgan had never had to act so in all her life, not even when her mother was alive. He sat on his throne, dressed like a king. Well, that is what he told Morgan. She had never seen such an outfit. It had a small fur cape, dyed red, attached by a big silver broach. His shirt was trimmed with lace, and the top of his boots were wrapped in more red rabbit fur. She and Agnes sat on their thrones, but they were not as dressed up as he. Agnes the Red looked like the queen she used to be, and Morgan felt more like a doll that had been dressed by four young servant girls playing house. Both women were very grumpy from all the work. The visitors arrived on time, as they had written. Three boxes on wheels pulled up to the castle entrance. Six finely dolled-up horses for each box. The townspeople had never seen anything like it. The door guards stared, bemused at the sight of them. The coachmen got off their wooden seats. One opened the door and the other got on his hands and knees. “Odd bunch,” Demus whispered. “Agreed,” Hector replied. “Hush, you two,” Grady said. A man came out using the man on the ground as a stepping stool. He turned and helped his wife out. He was very skinny and short. He was pale as fresh white snow, as if he never dared to venture out in the sun. His blondish-brown hair was cut straight around his head to his ears; it almost hid his dull blue eyes. He wore breeches and a shirt with an abundance of ruffles and lace. His sleeves puffed out to the elbows and ended in more ruffles. His wife had on layers of clothes. It looked as if she was wearing ten dresses in one. All her body was covered in either cloth or lace. She wore a giant necklace. It looked heavy, as if she would need help walking around with it. Her hair was a golden brown, done up in a bun and fastened together by her small golden crown. Her skin, too, was very white, but whiter than the king’s, for she used a powder. Her lips were bright red, as were her cheeks. Her laced hands wrapped around her husband’s arm, as she looked around with hazel eyes. “Very muddy, I hope I do not get any on my frock. It is very dull, too. Too many trees and fields. It is like our trips into the country. We should have stayed in the city.” He patted her lacy hand. “Calm yourself, dear. It is dull, but I am sure we will find the hospitality very genteel.” “I do hope you are right. Where is my Philip? Philip, come now, to my side.” “Coming, Mother,” said a very bored, high-pitched voice. A man, the age of Morgan, came out of the box. He looked around with his own blue eyes. He looked exactly like his father, from his hair to his clothing. He was a bit shorter, like his mother. “Father, I do not like this place.”
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