Angela met Cecilia in the wide corridor of the palace, the space between them narrowing with every step. Sunlight streamed through the high, arched windows, casting long golden rectangles across the polished marble floor.
The two women approached from opposite ends of a three-way intersection, their footsteps echoing in perfect counterpoint, and came to a halt in the center, face to face.
Angela had changed clothes. Gone was the plain garment she had worn in the dungeon. In its place, she wore a gown of deep sapphire velvet, cut in the timeless silhouette that had been the height of fashion years ago, before her imprisonment.
The fabric draped her like it had missed her, rich and regal, and her dark hair had been brushed to a soft shine, threaded with pearls.
She finally looked like a proper princess once more.
