Golden Glade cymydog

Madhuri couldn't help but smiling at the string of names given in response—a kindred royal soul, indeed!—but she quickly stifled any impudent amusement. Instead, she listened carefully, nodding along in agreement to the woman's words.

Of course, this queen looked for assurances her claim would go unmolested. She would seek the same.

We offer peace, Madhu replied. My father's kingdom has enjoyed many seasons without bloodshed; we are careful to maintain justice and balance. I like to think they've molded me in that image.

She paused, mouth moving slowly, then went on. Mictec. . . Before she could bungle all that, she shook her head. What should I call you? she asked. You can call me Madhuri, or even Madhu, for short.

Friendship was, indeed, at the very core of her offer.