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    Summary

    Her silhouette blended with the throne, and yet She was the first thing one saw upon entering. At least, She was the first thing Tartaglia saw, before Her armor, chiseled from the bones of ancient gods, before the snowy garden adorning Her backrest, before the arabesques and frescoes carved into the ice that covered floors and ceilings – even before he opened his eyes, locked on the only place where he felt worthy of facing Her – he saw only Her, etched into his soul, carved into his memories and adorations. He could hear Her smile tinkle like the purest crystal.

     

    "Don't do anything reckless in your excitement."

    "Have I ever disappointed you, Madame Zaychik?"

    "Never, Zandik. Never."

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    5,897
    Chapters:
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