LADY BAEVERA
Across the courtyard, the maidens danced, swaying and spinning in perfect synchronicity. Their oiled skin gleamed under the lantern light, dusted faintly with gold. Music drifted from behind the latticed walls, soft and rhythmic, guiding their movements.
“Vera, would you like to join in?” Millina’s voice called brightly.
“No,” I answered without looking up. I was seated under the open arch reading a book far from the rehearsing circle.
“But this is for the third sequence!” another maiden protested, sounding both surprised and indignant. “It is the Final Hour act where we all come together and—”
“I have learned all my parts.” I turned a page. “I will not chase another.”
Tuning them out, my eyes eagerly tracing the next lines of ‘Lady Fiona and the Mystic River.’ Keen on k
