“From the crest of the hill it was possible to see all of Fiorenza laid out far below them, like a huge toy. The dark clouds had robbed the buildings of color, which made it seem more unreal, like the images in a dream. Demetrice reined in first, her dark green cloak flying behind her. She had hiked up her wool skirt and was riding astride as Laurenzo had taught her when they had gone to his hunting lodge. Her high boots were better suited to a boy, as was the embroidered three-cornered cap that... held her rosy-blond hair in place. There was the sound of hooves and Ragoczy pulled in his gray beside her roan mare. Today he was wholly in black: no red or white or silver marred the perfect ebony of his clothes. From Russian heeled boots to French gloves to soft Spanish hat, he wore black. It may have been for that reason his face appeared more pale than usual. The clouds, purple-bellied, pushed through the sky, blotting out the last of the sunlight. Demetrice shivered and pulled her cloak around her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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