The girl seemed to flow from out of the woods, a storied creature Hephaestus was so blessed to view. After a moment, he caught himself gaping. Brilliant blue eyes lined with amber and rose, and brindling resembling the very form of lightning. He gulped in a breath.
Hephaestus steeled himself to speak as she spoke, staring into the Tarben female’s face. “Hello, Lady Ingrid, I am Hephaestus, son of King Mabbit of Amberbjorne and, yes, the one you are to marry.” She didn’t look like a bloodthirsty, cruel creature; on the contrary, brave and just a little bit nervous, like him. “I hope you know you are gorgeous to look upon,” he tried, hoping it wouldn’t come across as creepy or insulting. “You look like no woman I have seen before, and it’s a different type of beauty. And, and it’s refreshing.” Hephaestus winced internally. “In Amberbjorne, we . . . have a little bit of the same stuff. Mostly among the royal family.”

“Ooh, baby, it’s a long way down, a long way down”