Lion Head Mesa mariposa

there was no prince and there would have been no princess either. belen's musings upon the departure of crowfeather had become a bitter seed she tucked beneath the edge of her breastplate. today the girl had bathed in the river and returned to the palace, slightly damp. from a storeroom she took two glossy pelts for bed-cushions, and set off to the quarters that sayf had appointed for their new hemet. he was the chosen servant here. belen did not enter. she bowed low at the door. "lady @Qiao?" came her soft call.