Queen Marella had escorted Esmeray here, after a strict warning. She was to speak only when spoken to. She would not act up. She was to present as a demure, clever young woman. She was not to inflame or raise suspicion.
Esmeray felt stifled in Ranjord, in that cruel environment that condemned her for choosing to lay with Omen. She had taken her daughter Isolde as her heirtheta, per Queen Marella’s orders, but otherwise she rarely saw any of her four children. Not that she cared, really. She would likely mother plenty more as Queen of Tarben.
Erik was a handsome man, bold and stunning. She hoped their children looked like him - stilted creatures gifted with speed, independence, beauty and ferocity.
Esmeray’s green eyes flicked to Queen Marella, who was waiting with her own gaze firmly ahead to watch for the greeting party.

“Ice has a beauty, can’t be controlled!”