The Wronged Princess - Book I - Page 40/133

A sense of nostalgia settled over her. All her readings portrayed a potent power. Granted, her imagination could soar with the legends, but Eros' role in the myths was brilliantly legendary. Magnificent. Even in modern times the masses celebrated him as the darling of poets and artists. The centuries had been very kind to him. She giggled.

Marcel responded in kind, obviously happy she'd decided to revel in her new found, most likely, short-lived independence.

Somehow this particular statue at this particular moment seemed most apropos. Perhaps she would sneak out early on the morrow. Just for a quick and closer look. She shrugged. Who would miss her?

Mayhap something would inspire her imagination in snagging Prince's attention. Fairy tales had happy endings after all. In the meantime, she would revel in this unexpected gift of solitude while she could. Alone there was no one to lash out with anger, criticism, or physical violence.

A sense of silly giddiness stole over her body as she stepped from the window and spun around. She'd truly happened upon a rare freedom.