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The Painted Veil
Category: Historical
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The end.