He’d moved out of sight, but he couldn’t escape the sound, the distant thunder of stone falling on stone, of walls toppling to the ground.  It was all day — all night.  Didn’t these conquerors sleep?

He waited, and watched.  Watched for survivors, travelers returning to the City unaware that the world had changed in their absence.

He watched for survivors, but that wasn’t what he saw.  With each carrying rumble, he saw the City.  He saw the bright mosaics he’d played next to as a child.  Gone.  He saw the fountain where he’d told Asiri he loved her.  Gone.  He saw the sunlit columns of the temple.  Gone.  His eyes watered, and he told himself it was the sharp summer wind.

He’d thought the thunder was the worst of it, but in the end, he was wrong.  What was worse was when the thunder stopped, and there was only silence and the wind on the plains.

This week’s prompt from Trifecta Writing Challenge. This week’s challenge was to write between 33 and 333 words using the third definition of the word thun·der (noun \ˈthÉ™n-dÉ™r\)

1: the sound that follows a flash of lightning and is caused by sudden expansion of the air in the path of the electrical discharge
2: a loud utterance or threat
3: bang, rumble

It’s good fun, this prompt business!

“So,” Raicha started.  “Sahmin Bahlaru.”  It was the first time since the wedding that she’d had the chance to talk to Camilia privately, and her curiosity was killing her.

Camilia smiled a little, and took a sip of her wine.  A bead of condensation ran down the side of the glass.  “Charming, isn’t he?”  Camilia’s head turned toward where he was standing by the fountain, talking to one of her half-brothers.

“He is,” she agreed dubiously, looking at him.  He was, certainly.  Pleasant, acceptably good looking, of excellent birth, entirely appropriate in every respect.  Camilia’s choice had relieved and disconcerted the nobility in equal measure, depending on how well they really knew her.  She could see out of the corner of her eye that Camilia’s nose was wrinkling in amusement.

She recognized that expression. Her suspicion deepened.  “Camilia, what are you up to?”

Camilia’s mouth turned up, but she shook her head.  “Raicha, really.”  She motioned lightly for one of the servants to adjust the awning above them where the sun had moved around the edge.

One of the late Emperor’s lesser wives swept past, looking as pinched as she had ever since Camilia’s coronation.  A sudden thought struck Raicha.  She put her head back against the chair, and touched her sweating wineglass to her cheek.  It was probably marring her paints, but it felt good all the same.  She tilted her head.  “I’m told Aila Sino is taking a second husband to administer the estates she just inherited.”  It wasn’t common for a woman to take multiple husbands, but…

Aha!  That earned her a slanting glance from those sharp green eyes, pregnant with mischief.  It was as good as a confidence, that look.  Raicha started to laugh softly.  “To your wedding, my dear.”  Camilia, still twinkling, solemnly clinked her glass against Raicha’s.  Raicha subsided into her chair, grinning.   They lay in companionable silence while Raicha began to review all the scandalously inappropriate men of their acquaintance in her head.

Second prompt!  This time a little fiction, in response to this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge. This week’s prompt called for use of the third meaning of the word  confidence (noun), defined as:

3 a: a relation of trust or intimacy <took his friend into hisconfidence>

   c : support especially in a legislative body <vote ofconfidence>