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The Gha

 

 

 

In the country of Tuschia, in the seaside city of Gherto, there lives an old noble family, the Gha. There is also an enterprising young man called Chisra, who has some claims on the family.

- ONGOING. Rated MA.

 

Prologue

He slid along the empty street like a bat, melted into the deeper shadow cast by a house, waited. When the hollow echo of footsteps on the crossing alley had died down, the darkness stirred once more. A shape detached itself from it to continue on its path towards the high iron fence of the estate at the end of the street.

In the night the fence seemed to enclose only clusters of lush trees, but the man made his way inside it through a small gate and walked between the trees until he reached the house. It loomed in the middle of the garden, the scent of roses hanging in the air around it like a veil.

The front door opened and closed. The man stopped to sweep back the black hood of his cloak and shook his head so that long golden hair cascaded freely on his shoulders. A mirror on the wall reflected the glow of a candle and he turned, lips pulling into a smile that was thin and sharp as a stiletto.

"It is done."

The pale woman frowned, candle flickering in her hand. "What have you done?"

"Avenged my brother and your husband, my dear Amíria." The man swung the cloak away, peeled leather gloves from his hands and straightened his cuffs.

She sighed. "You will get in trouble for this."

"Oh no, I won't," the man replied in a low voice. He sounded satisfied. "Nobody can link me to what will be found C and as to the man who knows for sure, he won't breathe a word unless he wants to hang himself as well."

He kissed her on the cheek. "Don't worry, sister dear. There's nothing to fret about."

"Chiséra, whatever you do, it will not bring Gioréo back."

She looked straight into his eyes that narrowed slightly.

"No. But you don't really think that those who did it should be allowed to sleep their nights in peace." His breath hissed in the silence. "Do you?"

The woman shook her head and smiled minutely.

"I would have told you no a little earlier and a little more emphatically," she said quietly. "Now get yourself to bed, mylord. It's well past midnight."

He bowed to her and turned to go, hearing the rustle of her skirts as she ascended the stairs. Past midnight, and she hadn't even undressed yet. Right now her maid would be cursing her mistress, provided that the woman was even awake.

The blond man walked along the soft carpet to the other end of the dark corridor, lips curling a little at the metallic scent of blood that lingered on his tongue.

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