It was a wet, bone-cold day when Luke took Morgan to visit the Queen. Both stopped abruptly upon entering her tent, and for a moment the only sound was the steady drip of water from their weather-spelled coats.
“I’d known she had a mind deficit, but…” Morgan’s low voice trailed off.
“There you are,” the Queen said, slapping irritably at her flustered maids, who were vainly attempting to shield her. The tall woman had not a stitch of clothing, save an empty scabbard buckled around her waist. “How are my soldiers?”
Morgan arched a brow. “Clothed, Queen Fiaena.”
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: buckle, deficit, purple)