I looked over at the other side and found Kara’s mother, dressed all in black with a thin, black veil over her face. She raised it slightly and glared at me. My mother cleared her throat, and she looked over at her, her face turning pale when she saw Mother staring at her. She looked away and dropped the veil. I couldn’t help but grin. No one messed with Hera’s children.
“May I court you? Perhaps we could try being friends? I would never expect you to take me at my word and just accept me as your wife in all things. But I hope one day to get there.”
They were quick to welcome me, encouraging me to join them for a Star Wars marathon. While my weakness was for Battlestar Galactica, I didn’t see a problem in joining them. Perhaps I would be able to lose myself in the movie and not give in to the vicious voice in my mind.
I reached out to touch her, but stopped myself at the last moment. My hands hovered inches away from her, desperate to heal the pain with my touch, but I was terrified. I didn’t want to taint her perfect skin with my unworthy hands. ”
I ground my teeth together and growled loudly. “You! Left! Me!” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I flung out my right hand, arcing power towards him. As it connected, his body exploded and reformed as a donkey…well, an ass, to be more precise.
There was a white satin aisle runner with chairs on either side. Candelabras were set strategically along the path, giving the whole scene a soft glow. Fireflies fluttered over the water, their lights blinking off and on, just as they had done the night I proposed. It was simple and elegant, just like Kara.
The rumble started in his diaphragm and got stronger as it traveled up his chest. He stood and let out a roar loud enough to shake the glasses on the table.
I watched the sun rays dance along my carpet, remembering the first rug upon which I smote a mortal and how my grandson used it to dispose of the body. That was my favorite rug, and I missed it.
Mr. Franklin was on the phone from the minute they came in. He walked into the waiting room ahead of his wife, not bothering to hold the door open for her, obviously assuming she would take care of everything.
I suppose you already know about the “royal decree” from my husband. I’m sure you’ve
