As I continued through the book, the daylight faded behind me.
The images of the bloodied war shift to the image of a woman wrapped in silk like clothes, adorned in jewels, with a crown sitting atop her head.
I flipped back to the cover, it was the same image just in more detail on the page.
Her beauty seemed transcendent, the artist must have been bewitched by her beauty to be able to make the reader fall into such a state of awe that I’ve found myself in.
Turning the page was another image of the beauty, but this time she sat on a throne, vibrant colored flowers and jewels surrounded her as her gaze fell in front of her.
At the bottom of the steps knelt three handsome men. The artist must not have been so enraptured by them as they were with the woman because little detail was added
