The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, banishing the deep purple shadows. In the lead on her pristine kindred horse, Karla waited for her entrance, her Court beside her, while behind them stood her army in neat and precise rows. The sharp morning breeze made the banners and pennons snap in the air, royal blue with her Court's sigil
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... Right?
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At least she looked the part of the regal Queen? So long as no one watched her expression too closely?
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Any time now, Sidra.
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The chanting was only, "Karla!" and there was not a single poster in sight.
"Lady," said the Prince who had visited her tent a month ago. "Sidra is yours."
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He was looking only slightly bemused as colored paper settled in his hair and wings.
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A glance and a quick thread between them, Julian and Morton began organizing the members of the army that had accompanied them into the city to form a protective circle around Karla and her Court. So many people, it would be easy for Hobart to slip an assassin into the crowds.
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It was more than a little hilarious, how the people were welcoming them after their greeting eight months ago.
You'd think they totally forgot about it, she sent to Swift.
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One of the Healers rode forward on her horse and actually corralled him back into the group. She got a bit of a sour look for her trouble.
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"Mercy!" the male yelled as he flung himself into the arms of the soldiers. "Mercy, I pray you!"
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"Not where any kids can see," he said, uninterested.
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Also, no world ending!
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Oh. NO world ending...
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Now let's go make a cake to celebrate!
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Black powder... baking powder... totally different, right?
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