An elegant sari was draped across her figure; magnificent, painstakingly embroidered, and in a shade of deep red, it was even more lavish than the gowns she had worn every day since arriving at the castle. Her lips and eyes were painted, and though she looked beautiful she had never been more miserable.
No sooner had the thought occurred to him than he found himself staring down the barrel of a single-shot caplock pistol, and halted in his tracks. It was not a particularly accurate weapon if he remembered correctly, not that it would matter at point-blank range.
The grass and the vines and the willow tree were all so lush and vividly green that he was slightly awed by them. Their location within an alcove of a cliff made all of it more remarkable. It was such an unexpected place for something so beautiful, like an oasis in the middle of a barren desert.
His eyes were frighteningly alive, the curve of his mouth savage and pleased. It suddenly didn't seem at all surprising that he should be able to pull things from his dreams.
In that moment, Blue was a little in love with all of them. Their magic. Their quest. Their awfulness and strangeness. Her raven boys.
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