Ilyria and the Lightning Bird
She sneezed.
Her eyes still closed, she followed the smells until the ground beneath her felt different. It crunched like wet sand and she felt herself sink into it.
“Open your eyes, Ilyria,” said the Princess, her voice the velvet and husky tones of a young woman.
Sure enough, when Ilyria opened her eyes, the Princess stood before her, smiling. There was no trace of the ill old woman Ilyria had seen lying prone in her chambers. Or the corpse-like Princess laid out on the cold slab in Izben. Now the Princess wore yellow cloud silks that wove around her lithe body. Her black as obsidian hair her hung down her back, her skin smooth and golden. Her eyes were still milky with the opalescence of
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