Glasslight Palace was the wonder of the most wondrous city in the known world, and Sera hated it.
A prison was still a prison, even when it was built of spun glass and miracles and filled with beauty, and music, and the most vicious, snake-tongued court this side of the Cataclysm.
Sera assumed the bland, uncaring smile she preferred as her mask in social situations and glided into the main hall, plucking a bubble-fine glass from a tray as she passed. The bot holding it beeped, registering her attendance. Taking a sip of the delicate, finely fizzing wine, she paused to consider her options. A mistake.
Glorianna Lightlaw, fifth daughter of Lord Lightlaw, who had given up on his quest for a son after the sixth. No one quite knew who he would be settling on as his heir, but most wagers were being placed on whoever managed to snare the eldest girl as a bride. Glorianna was nothing, desperately trying to be something, and she saw Sera as a means to attention.
“Seraph, dearest, I haven’t seen you in simply an age.”
“It’s been a week, I believe.”
“And yet a week is so long.” The willowy blonde traded her empty glass for a full one and took a generous swig. Sera wondered how many she’d already had, and whether this gathering would end in Lord Lightlaw’s embarrassment once again.
The DNA of Stories 