Uncalling

As the sun blinked over the horizon she woke to nudge in the ribs. She turns to the side, landing on a heap of blankets, muting the thud that follows.

Grace on all fours crawls away from the scene. She looks back at the man who will soon to be her husband.

How did I get here? How did this happen? She knew the answers,but she couldn't help ask them. Maybe she was in a perpetual nightmare.

Her brown hair spilling out of its pins she pushes it back with the of her hand. But her hair came rushing out of its fashion with a temper.

She ignores the hair situation and bolts out of the sitting room and back to the stairway ascending to her room.

She takes the tea in the pot and pours herself cup and sits in the rocking chair. Grace knows she can't go back, going back will mean the end of what she worked for.

No. She can't run away from the prince. This marriage will be the best opportunity to present itself, marrying a prince means she will have accesses to riches and rank.

Grace was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the sound of footsteps advancing behind her. The heavy stomps, the unsheathing of a sword, and the whish that followed.

She turned but before she could scream she was forcefully pushed to the ground, two swords connecting. Metal against metal. It was the most horrid sound.

Fear gripped her like claws. Grace scrambled away and grabbed the pitcher and swung it at her assailants head.

He made a sound before passing out.

She turned toward Marcin gold eyes framed with black lashes. Dark fascination grips her shaking her to her very core.

Grace never knew something so beautiful could be horrifying.