That was all the time she'd need to finish "The Winter's Tale." And that would mark the end of her Grand Shakespearean Quest, the semi-academic endeavor that had occupied her spare time for nearly six months. It was going to rain, no doubt about that, but if she were lucky she'd have another hour until the first drops fell. They refused to obey, but she wasn't about to read with her face pressed into the book, so she squinted and plodded on.Ī chilly wind passed across her, and she glanced up at the overcast sky. She blinked a couple of times, willing her bright blue eyes to focus on the words that lay before her on the page. The type on the page slowly focused.īelle sighed and leaned back against a tree trunk. There weren't any gardeners in "The Winter's Tate." She held the book farther from her face. "If, one by one, you weeded all the world -"Īrabella Blydon blinked.
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