<em><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Servallatrix; The Courtyard</span></span></em><br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">Servallatrix had lain out a picnic in the courtyard for lunch. It was one of her favorite places in the world, and since she knew the king would be too busy for her today, she had fixed a special meal and some fruit in a basket and gone to the courtyard for the afternoon. <br/><br/>The trees were alive with color as their flowers bloomed in season, providing vibrant shade for her to sit under. She was kneeling now on a satin blanket, the scraps of her lunch neatly packed back into the basket on a blanket corner, while she plaited her long, white hair and softly sang a tune. It was an old song, one whose words she knew well, a ballad of Thundera that sang to its might and prestige. <br/><br/>When the wind blew, the branches shook multihued petals down onto the blanket like slow, vivid rain. She closed her eyes and leaned back, tilting her face skyward, singing as if she could make her heart a song. She was thinking of that lynx again, the kitchen lad. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled, how he was always up to some mischief. He had incredible eyes. This aquamarine that seemed like precious stones made into irises, and his gaze was so intense. She had seen him leaving for the marketplace earlier, following his gallop with her eyes as he hurried. She stopped singing and sighed. The kitchen boy made her sigh, and she sighed often these days. She wondered vaguely when he would get back, if the chef would be angry at what he brought. Maybe he would hide in the courtyard and see her… Oh, but he wouldn’t. Such idle thoughts. She released the braid from her delicately clawed fingertips and let it fall to her waist, the hair coming loose without something to tie it in place. <br/></span>