48

By now, Selene knew the pattern of the gasp. It was a high pitch wail that descended to a soft humming, also went up again. Selene sat on her bed, her chamber now holding herself and her family. Selene locked the little queen inbetween her shanks and circled her with her arms, her own chin atop the child's head.

The gasp was untamed. Monotonous and pained. She wondered why the guards of the manor house could not make a skinny menial quiet or perhaps it was fright that the demoiselle may have been stunk and infected.

Selene could feel the shiver creep upon her again that morning.

She had seen the maid at the regale the Lord had forced her to. The girl had led a smiling Mia to the reiterating hall and promised to tuck her to bed after a bed story latterly. also this morning the riots had woken her up, with a veritably confused looking Mia coming to her bed chamber attended by a guard. The stories had come, by another aged woman that came to prepare the goddesses for the day, that
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