“There she was, standing amidst her servants all clad in the deepest of navy satin with sapphires laced into their hair. A standard custom of the ladies loyal to the Convent of Sevrah. Her eyes were honey brown but edged in something close to distain. Disgust, perhaps. It was not a soft face, any more that her body was soft. She was a woman of strong lines and high bones, and that made for a good face and a handsome one, but hard, so hard. What made her beautiful was her hair and her doll pale skin. She stood as straight as spear and her hair was scooped back from her lovely face in a series of complicated twists. The red of her curls had caught the sunshine and it shone bright as Amber. Valencia had seen woman of greater beauty, that was for sure, but she had never seen someone as captivating as Sister Yarasha. I loved a maid as red as Autumn, Valencia thought idly, unable to tear her eyes from the advancing woman, with sunset in her hair... “
