They stood close in the ancient belfry awaiting the arrival of their benefactor, Lord Shaldon.
The mist shrouding the marshland broke and an errant sunbeam glinted off of Shaldon’s gilded palanquin. Spying the retinue as well, Nalia turned to leave.
“It would be a most egregious breach of protocol were you absent when he arrives. You know his philanthropic offer to feed our people comes at a cost.”
“I would sooner dance naked in an abbatoir than marry that swine. He is coarse, vulgar and has all the charm of a rotting gorse bush. He looks at me as if I were a..a..deluxe cheesesteak meal with a large beverage.”
Roland’s eyebrow arched, assuming the reference to be from one of the books of the Before Time his daughter loved reading so much.
He acknowledged her tirade with a terse nod. “I can not disagree, but marry him you will.
This story was written for my own Monday Mixer weekly flash fiction challenge. It is, of course, ineligible but I just felt like doing my version of working all nine prompt words into a single 150-word story. Come out & try it yourself.