To Drysllthen, With Love.

Maeryn awoke alone, in the hour, just before the dawn. With a frantic gasp, she quickly dressed. Even though the sky was lightening to deep purples and fair pinks, she swathed herself in her masquerade dress and mask. A brush was quickly ran through her hair, though the sweet oil and straightening iron had begun to loose their hold. Several of her straightened locks had twisted again into their usual loose curls. She retied her failing ribbons and selected a thicker one to replace the one at her throat to cover the few light bruises.

She had hopes that drink had led the party into these early hours, so that she might find the new King and give him the congradulations she had meant to. Unfortunately, all that greeted her was an army of servants, bent with scrub brushes and hauling away food, dish and decor.

Biting her lip she turned on her heel and raced back up to her bedroom. Quickly she pulled out her decorative, hand painted, parchment paper. She scribbled quickly with her quill.

Once the letter had time to dry, she rolled it and tied it with a thin pink ribbon and moved quietly down the hall, slippered feet barely whispering in the corridor. She paused at the gaurded doorway to his quarters and flashed a bright smile and shook her head to the gaurds who were about to announce her. Slender finger pressed against her lips and she bent to slide the paper beneath his door, wedging it so it'd not flutter away with passing footsteps.

Feeling better, she quickly returned to her room to get some much needed sleep.
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The letter: