The Pain that Made Her Beautiful

PMHB 42

Hey all y'all! (I'm in TX, I'm allowed to say that now. =) )

So, I am so sorry that I have not been able to post in so long. I hope I more than made up for my lack of posting in the length of this new chapter. I really hope you all enjoy it.

Enjoy all of it, I hope and keep me posted on how I'm doing. =)

Blessings,

JDB

*                             *                                       *                                           *

Neorah was severely worried at this point. Warick never acted this way.

Now that I think about it, he has. He has done this several times before.

There were times when Warick would be acting like himself, but, recently, he had been susceptible to unforeseen outbursts of a vengeful character.

“Neorah, I speak now, head what I am about to tell you. Warick, he has malice in his heart, he has hardened it against Me. The fallen angel has come to him, speaking with a gilded tongue in his ear. Warick does not know his speech or his actions. He has been bewitched. Neorah, I am telling you now, stand clear of Warick, no matter how much you think you may be able to help him. As his mindset is evil, you will not leave many more encounters with him as unharmed as you are now.”

He had come again and spoken to her, Jesus was speaking to her very soul, words that may very well save her life.

I will do as you tell me, Lord.

*                                       *                     *                                       *

After a long day of traveling, and the permanent resonance of trumpets sounding in her ears, Nayeli was slouching in a padded chair, utterly exhausted. A bucket of warmed water soothed her aching feet as a servant girl within the noble’s house rubbed her aching shoulders.

As soon as they had entered the gates of Verona it was a mad house. The city was a ruckus. It had been alerted beforehand to the arrival of Emperor Vespasian’s nephew and his new fiancé. There was music, dancing, and throngs and throngs of people, as far as the eye could see.

A few miles before they were to enter the city, the whole caravan stopped. There were four princely horses, bridled with gold inlay, and, all in all, handsome creatures were separated from the fracas with a large, intricate chariot hooked up to them. Two or three men saw to each horse as they fussed over their hair and manes with combs and brushed and fine oils to make the almost blinding to passers by.

“To disallow any person who tries to mount the horse and ride away in the sunset with you,” Marcus said in her ear, “They’ll simply slip right off.”

Following his statement, Marcus looked at her and winked playfully before prancing off to see to other business. At that, Nayeli stifled a giggle, but allowed a faint smile to curl at her lips.

Apollo had dismounted and was walking toward Nayeli with a determined look. His walk was of a man who had something weighing on his very soul. His eyes were pitiful, and it looked as though he were about to cry. There was something so vulnerable about this man right now. He was being… submissive?

Noo! That’s absolutely impossible. Apollo? Yeah, when I see those beloved children of mine again, I’ll believe it—maybe.

“Ma’am, your highness, I wish to offer you my most sincere apologies and hope to regain some of your favor as your vassal. I am yours to command and hope, to Zeus, that I have not lost all of my ground with your kindness,” Apollo said as he was in the kneeling position, his face downward.