Erasmus would never forget the first time he saw her. She was dressed like every other woman in court, wearing a bright color, white, a tight-fitted bodice and a loose skirt.
The white made the golden tones of her skin stand out, and her dark hair looked like liquid night. There was a layered gap where extensions had been added to adhere to court fashion. Her face was all sharp angles. Hunger and ice lived in her eyes. She was a waif, but her steps were steady.
No one knew yet why she was there. But once they learned, they wouldn’t look at her the same way.
She looked to everyone else like a visiting noble to be presented to the court, but she wasn’t.
It was in the subtle movements she made to catalogue the room – the way her hands never quite stopped moving.
Erasmus could tell she wasn’t a normal woman. She didn’t look like she was from this continent and he had never seen her before.
The room paid her no heed, there was no reason to, she wasn’t uncommonly pretty or striking, she had no particular air about her that asked the room to look at her, but Erasmus knew by the way the consul from Norinth was looking at her that she meant something more.