tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7814771751990061325.post2599754310196941102..comments2023-11-26T01:21:35.860-07:00Comments on Mormon Mommy Writers and Friends: 24 Hour Story RevistedMarianne (Mare) Baker Ballhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03663143060069193124noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7814771751990061325.post-86259282190214282302013-01-19T16:44:54.358-07:002013-01-19T16:44:54.358-07:00It was fun writing a story with you, Nikki. LOL! :...It was fun writing a story with you, Nikki. LOL! :-)KaseyQhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18394640941485859111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7814771751990061325.post-1928206570776351532013-01-18T15:01:53.835-07:002013-01-18T15:01:53.835-07:00...a measure of freedom. You will have a curfew of......a measure of freedom. You will have a curfew of course, but I can loan you a horse from my stable-“<br /><br />“You mean from MY stable?” Isabelle hissed through gritted teeth. <br /><br />Lord Marek smirked, but it turned to a grimace as he icily replied, “Not anymore, princess,” he said the word with contempt, “I believe that when I beheaded your father last week that lovely row of stallions and mares became mine.”<br /><br />Isabelle’s heart pounded as she clenched her fists against the rage that threatened to suffocate her at the mention of her father’s murder. It was all she could do to keep from lunging at him.<br /><br />Fortunately, the echo of his words concerning granting her a "measure of freedom” pushed a calming breath of air into her lungs. If she could get to Thomas, she knew, there was hope. <br /><br />Thomas had been her best friend since childhood, when his father was the royal blacksmith. Thomas had followed in his father’s footsteps, but preferred living outside the walls of the palace and serving those who wore cotton rather than satin. He never seemed to fit in with those of the royal blood, even as a servant. Isabelle and Thomas had that in common- perhaps that was why they had become lifelong friends.<br /><br />As Isabelle held to the calming image of Thomas’s sandy hair and hearty laugh, a sudden scraping clang reverberated through the throne room. She and Marek both turned at the sound. A breathless messenger stood just inside the now open door at the back of the room.KaseyQhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18394640941485859111noreply@blogger.com