The room was dim, the heavy velvet curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun, trapping shadows in the corners. The air was thick with the sweet, cloying scent of sandalwood incense. An old woman with eyes that's all knowing sat behind a small, round table covered in a dark, embroidered cloth. This was the parlor of the most famous palm reader in all of Albion.
"I must have been blessed by the fates today," the palm reader said, her voice a low, raspy whisper. "For years, all the great nobles of this kingdom have come to my door to know their fate. But you, Dowager Duchess Elena, in all this time, you never came. And yet, you have finally arrived."
Elena, looking as regal and out of place as a diamond in a coal bin, sat opposite her. "I have never had a reason to come before," she replied, her voice cool and clipped. "But today…" She turned and looked at Delia, who was sitting silently beside her. "Today, I am here because of her."
