CHAPTER NINE
Murielle approached the South Gates of Darloque, the sun well into its westward descent from the meridian, keeping Cheval at a full gallop. He was sweaty, foaming, and tired, but in great spirits. Murielle reined the horse back as she approached the gates and, although nearly exhausted, the animal seemed reluctant to slow. The handful of guards watched her approach with languid interest. As Murielle slowed the horse to a trot, they gripped their weapons tighter out of habit rather than from any perceived threat. Such is the way of soldiers during peacetime, Murielle thought idly.
She sighed. Father would be appalled at the lax behavior of these guards. A couple of young faces stood at the post. These boys certainly had never experienced real battle. She snapped a very proper
