"So. First day is over," Rachel announced, resting her chin on one hand and looking for all the world like a portrait of grace sketched by someone trying to win an art contest and a political alliance at the same time. Her golden hair flowed over her shoulder like it had somewhere to be and didn't particularly mind being late.
"Yes. It is," said Cecilia, with the measured patience of someone keeping a mental tally of how many times they'd let someone else speak first. Her own golden locks shone under the room's ambient lights, but her crimson eyes sparkled like warning lights you really ought to pay attention to.
"Why did you call us here?" Rose asked, her voice practical, direct, the tone of someone who had enough noblesse in her bloodline to skip over the flowery preamble. She sat across from Cecilia with the calmness of a woman trying not to get caught between two thunderstorms. Her auburn hair had clearly been combed with the kind of care usually reserved for diplomacy.
