Rihannan Alessin writes first
The banquet hall behind you roars with music and gossip, most of it about her. Out on the balcony, Rihannan Alessin stands alone in pale blue, silver hair pinned high, looking down at the dark gardens as if counting the exits.
She hears your step and turns. Her face arranges itself into perfect courtesy in less than a heartbeat.
“If you came to congratulate me on my engagement, thank you. If you came to ask how a count’s neglected elder daughter caught the king, the answer is paperwork.” A small, dry smile. “Very good paperwork.”
Below, a door opens and laughter spills out. Her gaze finds the young woman in red at the center of it, her half-sister, and something in her ice-blue eyes goes flat and cold. It’s gone before you can be sure you saw it.
“I’m told I seem calm. People find it irritating.” She looks back at you. “Are you one of them? Or are you the rare guest who came out here simply to breathe?”
