Free Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins by L Carroll Page B

her.
    “Oh yes,” he mocked in a high, squeaky
voice, “just look at me!” He thrust his hands onto his waist and
puffed out his chest. “I'm a wooooman now!”
    Gracielle, of course, slugged him hard in
the arm and told him to go kiss a slarp.
    But then, on the night of the Celebration,
his eyes were finally opened. Gracielle arrived alone, wearing a
flowing, pale blue gown that was the perfect shade to make her soft
green eyes sparkle. Her straight, strawberry blonde hair that was
normally pulled up in a messy, floppy ponytail was sleek, almost
down to her waist and dotted with tiny blue jewels. Jonathan
remembered how confident she looked, and how he was drawn to her
like a moth to a flame. It was that night that he couldn't keep his
eyes off of her. It was that night that he realized that he'd been
in love with her for longer than he could remember, and it was that
night—while they danced and laughed under the silvery summer
stars—that he knew he wanted to spend forever with her. Two months
later they were engaged. Six months after that, they became
entrusted to one another.
    Throughout the engagement, Gracielle
worriedly anticipated the process referred to as The Exalting, when
Jonathan would pledge his devotion to her by repeating an ancient
vow. The vow—an ages-old spell—would change her, giving her the
characteristics that on Lor Mandela, only Borlocs possess.
Gracielle had never pictured herself with the Borloc features, but
within hours of the ceremony, her hair turned to a rich, raven
black and her eyes changed from green to bright cobalt—and although
she was beautiful before, the contrast of her fair, slightly
freckled complexion against these new, more dramatic attributes,
made her even more stunning.
    Jonathan walked over to where she slept,
draped a lush white blanket over her, and whispered, “That did take
you a bit to get used to.” He kissed her on the cheek and then went
to bed himself.
    The sun had barely risen when there was a
tapping at the door. Gracielle heard it first, and groggily
staggered across the room to answer it.
    Ultara stood behind the door in the hall.
“Good Morning,” she whispered. “I thought I would check in and see
how you're doing today.”
    Gracielle pulled the door open wide and
sleepily motioned for her to come in.
    Ultara noticed Jonathan, who was staring at
her glassy-eyed from across the room. His hair was wild and matted
to his head on one side. “Oh, I'm sorry, Aton. Did I wake you?
Should I come back later?” she asked.
    Jonathan cleared his throat. “Uh hmm . . .
of course not, Ultara. How lovely to see you . . . this early.” He
shot her a grumpy glare as he walked toward the changing room at
the back of their chambers. “Excuse me . . . I'm gonna get
dressed,” he groaned.
    “So,” Ultara began, “how are you
feeling?”
    Gracielle, who was still trying to wake up,
stifled a yawn. “Oh, I . . . I'm okay.” She smoothed her pajamas
and asked, “How are you?”
    Ultara shrugged. “As well as can be
expected.” She glanced toward the changing room, and then took
Gracielle by the arm and whispered anxiously, “I figured something
out . . . something from the Advantiere.”
    Gracielle’s interest was piqued. “Really,
what?” she whispered in reply.
    Just then, Jonathan came back into the
room—fully dressed and looking quite put together for the short
time he had been gone. “You two wanna go eat?” He was still a
little grouchy. “You have to have something, Graci. You didn't get
dinner last night.” He spoke to Gracielle, but kept his eyes locked
suspiciously on Ultara. Ultara and Gracielle both took notice.
    “Um . . . actually dear, I think I'll just
have something sent up from the kitchens. I'm still a bit drained.”
Gracielle made faces at him in an attempt to get him to stop
glowering at Ultara, but he didn't blink.
    The mood in the room was growing tenser by
the minute. Even Ultara—who was not easily intimidated—was