"Oh, he's so handsome."
Marien sat in front of her bronze mirror. Her hands, usually so steady and graceful when playing the harp or pouring tea for suitors, were trembling as she pulled a silver-handled comb through her tangled hair. Each snag of the comb brought a wince of pain, but she welcomed it. It was a physical tether to the reality of the night, a night that had, in her mind, rewritten the stars in her favor.
She closed her eyes, and the world of the cramped room vanished. She was back in the Royal Solar. She could still feel the terrifying, bone-shaking roar of the explosion that had shattered the windows and sent the world spinning into chaos. She could still feel the crushing weight of the marble pillar that had pinned her to the floor, the heat of the approaching flames licking at the hem of her expensive blue gown. And then, through the haze of terror and white dust... him.
