For a day and a half, Princess Pirouette had wept. On the second day after hearing the news, she dried her eyes and bid her ladies to dress her in black. Next she told her master of the horse to make ready a steed that would carry her to GarGar’s house. When her footman helped her into the saddle, it took all of her composure not to begin crying again. The last time anyone had touched her so intimately, it had been GarGar. The tactile memory was hard to bear, but instead of crying, she only made a guttural sound, as though she were choking.
“Are you alright, my lady?” Asked one of her servants. All she could do in reply was shake her head.
“Giddy up,” she said as she spurred her horse. Off she rode, with her ladies and guards in tow.