Duskfire Glacier lancret

the queen rode home in her peasant's garb; cheeks flush with the thrill of the night. 

hunter's rouge painted her lips, lacquered her nails. her breath rose as a pretty white mist. she came into her summer palace brimming with potency.

"up, @Jesus!" roused she the daywalking cub, the princesse masquée's name sounding as zhe-zoo on the guardian mother's barbed tongue. 

"mon dieu, enough your poor habits," the royal continued as she passed by the girl's bedchamber, heading for the salle de bain. "how is a night queen to rule by day?"