The journey became quite monotonous. When I traveled with my mother to Shesax to start my novitiate, we had singers to serenade us, servants to care for us. When we grew tired of riding, we would slip into the carriage and eat lemon cakes and sip lavender water.
I squirmed. My butt ached. My back was sore. The sun was so hot on my brow. I raised the hood of my robe to shade my eyes. I drained my waterskin before noon and my bladder began to grow full, but Angela showed no sign of stopping.
I decided I wouldn't show her any discomfort. She rode her horse like nothing was the matter, her back as straight as when we left Shesax. The profile of her face was lovely. She was nobly born to possess such perfect features, and that hair bespoke of foreign blood. It shimmered in the sunlight as it bounced on her armor.
"What are you looking at?" Angela demanded. "Do I have a speck of dirt on my face."
"I...what?" I demanded.
"You were staring at my face, my Lady."
