The first thing Aurelia noticed when she stepped into her new chambers was the light. It was radiant, warm, and alive with light.
It poured through the arched windows like molten gold, spilling across the floor and caressing every surface ... the silken drapes of soft peach and ivory, the carved marble columns shaped like vines, the canopy bed dressed in silver-threaded sheets, and the faint shimmer of enchanted glass that caught every hue of sunset.
The air smelled of lavender and rain, fresh and clean .... not the stale, bitter chill she'd grown used to in Emberhold's tower.
Gwendolyn followed behind her, wide-eyed, her small hands clutching her skirts. "By the stars, my lady," she breathed, her voice trembling with awe. "It's like something out of a dream."
Aurelia managed a small smile. "A dream," she echoed softly. "Or a cruel jest of the gods."
