The balcony of the Aldenar's Capital manor was a wide, marble-paved expanse that caught the full glory of the sun. From this height, the Capital looked less like a nest of vipers and more like a shimmering jewel of white stone and terracotta, hugged by the turquoise curve of the coast.
Rion stood with his elbows resting on the railing, his posture uncharacteristically relaxed. His heavy Northern cloak had been discarded in favor of a simple tunic, and for the first time since they had crossed the border, he wasn't scanning the treeline for assassins. He closed his eyes, tilting his face up to catch the warmth. The weather was perfect.
Maybe the Capital isn't so bad, he thought, a rare moment of peace settling over him. If every day was like…
Plip. Plap. Splash.
