When the Lady Arlene asked me to take a letter to the Crown Prince of Darland, I thought it would be a simple task.
Granted, she did keep her apartment in the tallest tower of the castle on the highest peak in the land, and his father’s palace was at the base of the distant hills. What I hadn’t counted on was his immediate reply, which required an answer from her post-haste.
That was three days ago.
I spurred my horse - the fourth I had exhausted since this debacle began - to even greater speed. I had to get this latest dispatch to the Lady with all haste; the Prince was waiting anxiously on her reply to his new communique, which was safely tucked in my saddlebag. It read:
“I don’t know. What do YOU want to do after we meet for dinner?”
© 2018 - dustygrein