Irenya drained her wine cup, relieved to be alone at last. The clock whirred. She glanced at it in time to see the black square slide to the right. Midnight. Earlier, a number of guests bearing bottles of wine had arrived just as she was about to leave her apartment for the mirror. They were determined to continue the celebrations.
Aeryl had taken a dim view of Galen’s inebriated advances on Irenya. ‘He may be an excellent musician,’ she had muttered in Irenya’s ear, ‘but what does it say of a man who will treat you discourteously, then be all over you like the midges of Tahir Swamp at sunset? Never trust a man with an obsession for fringes.’
Irenya fingered her ruby. Privately, she supposed the gemstone was not hers and that it would remain behind. She imagined the ruby and her dress wi
