Jun 28
Chapter Three: Any Port in a Storm
“She rests her brow against the solid mahogany, and breathes deep. She thinks of Aemma’s hushed words, the fearful clutch of her fingers, and her head swims with sudden nausea. Her eyes squeeze shut. There is no time: no time to play her hand, no time to watch the pieces fall, no time to reinforce her position. It is as Aemma had said it would be. She needs to leave.
Today.”
Read here.
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Art: ‘I Am Half-Sick of Shadows, Said the Lady of Shalott’ by John William Waterhouse (1918)
