Bianca watched Ophelia's retreating form until the soft rustle of her silk skirts faded into the hollow silence of the corridor. She is different, Bianca thought, her fingers tracing the cold stone of the pillar. Useful. A viper in a dove's nest. It was an interesting development, a potential alliance forged in the shadows of a shared enemy, but it wasn't why she was here.
She refocused, pulling her hood lower. The mission remained. She had to reach Vetra before the trial, before the High Council's "justice" took hold. She moved with the fluid, practiced grace of a woman who had once called this palace home, slipping through a narrow service door concealed by a heavy landscape tapestry.
