Every evening, she kissed the king’s tablecloth before he dined. Every napkin, every fold of fabric smoothed by many hands under watchful eyes, to ensure no poisoning could take place. The food tasters were the lucky ones, getting almost a full meal out of a parade of tiny nibbles from numerous platters. She felt safer, somehow, heading back to her room in the east tower before the meal was even over, until the one night she lay there looking up at the ceiling as a tingling overtook her lips and tongue, an invisible cold like icy fingers sliding up her neck.
Rémi Savard says
Gripping. Well done!
Susan F. Reid says
Wow! It made me wonder who knew she kissed the tablecloth, and who wanted to harm her.
MaryEllen Carr says
I enjoyed the story but that last sentence is really long. Having “And tongue.” as its own sentence might have added to the suspense. I think you needed a comma between cold and like, it doesn’t read right without one.
CMF Wright says
I like it the way it’s written! Beautiful rhythmic prose.
Don Tassone says
Kelly Louisa Balliu says
Nice. Your story held me in suspense. Lovely description too.