Only the wind stirred.
A murmur rippled through the assembled. Gryfons shifted, parting for someone. Shard, restless and twitching, stood, lifting his head to peer over shoulders and wings.
Slowly though the crowd, wings politely folded and every step graceful, walked Ragna the Widow Queen. She advanced all the way to the king's rocks and mantled, her pale wings shimmering.
“My Lord.” Her voice carried over the pride, but with a different quality than the booming king's. Like rain. A breeze. Shard took a slow breath. No one moved, not even the king. The pale widow raised her head.
“It is still the Daynight celebration. A time for songs, and honoring bright Tyr.” She swept a look over the pride and in that glance Shard saw what she must have been as a queen. She return a huntress's gaze to the king.
“In light of your tremendous news, I ask your leave to sing a tale.”
A "quick" painting, illustrating a scene from Song of the Summer King. [link]
The Author (she has signed copies!): [link]
Corel Painter, oil pastel and acrylic brushes.