SERAPHINA
I smooth my hands over the deep emerald silk of my gown, checking my reflection one final time before leaving my chambers. The dress is formal enough for a royal representative but practical enough to move in, high neckline, long sleeves, fitted bodice that flows into a fuller skirt. Mother insisted on the color, saying it brings out my eyes.
What she really meant is that it makes me look strong. Regal. Like a princess who hasn't spent the last five years hiding in her own palace.
Elena appears in the doorway, Azriel's small hand clasped in hers. My son—gods, he's gotten so tall, is dressed in a simple tunic and trousers, his dark hair freshly combed. Those ice-blue eyes find me immediately, and he breaks into a grin that makes my chest ache.
"Mama!" He bounces on his toes. "
