The Tull Desert was neutral territory; the rebels knew its every rock. Fing felt comfortable enough meeting there, especially as his forces were holding Prince Quorda hostage back in Phemmerr.
Feiveen and his men were already waiting. “Name your price, rebel,” he declared, shattered.
“We demand full independence from Kuvuk.”
“So be it. And, please, accept these slaves as a gesture of good will for my son’s safe return. I think you’ll find them to your liking.”
The king signaled and a dozen beauties exited from the royal caravan, dancing and weaving patterns through the air with long silken scarves.
This piece of flash fiction was written in response to:
30 thoughts on “A dozen beauties”
I have never heard of a drabble – love how you introduce me to new forms of writing.
💘 🤍 Marion 🤍 💘