almost intimately. Embraced by shadow, he watched what happened as the world shifted.***/he holds her favor, even though he has not sought it. She’s looking at him boldly, this woman in black with her whip-thin smile and set of balances in her hand. The instrument of her office shines in the dim light, but it cannot compare with the hungry sheen of her eyes.The Conqueror, as always, is struck by Famine’s exotic beauty. Her skin is darker than his and unflawed by any imperfection; it is the color of russet skies moments before sunset, and it is magnificent. Her eyes are ringed with kohl—a testament to her former mortal life, as is her long braided wig. She is swathed in a black pleated dress held in place by two broad shoulder straps; beneath her belted waist, the long skirt splits down the sides to allow for riding. As usual, she is barefoot.And, as usual, she has shown up exactly where he needs to be. Whether that is due to famine naturally leading to pestilence, or due to the Black Rider’s whim, he can only guess.
