A Deal Written in White Gold
Brinda sat across from Felberta, her expression calm but her mind anything but.
The tea between them had begun to cool.
A thin curl of steam still rose from Felberta's cup, disappearing into the warm air of the chamber. Outside the tall windows, the afternoon sun cast pale golden bars across the floor, illuminating drifting motes of dust. Everything about the room looked peaceful.
Yet neither woman felt at peace.
Brinda rested one hand lightly against the armrest of her chair. Her long purple hair fell over one shoulder, and her purple eyes remained fixed on the beautiful woman sitting opposite her.
Felberta smiled.
That smile was gentle enough to fool an ordinary person.
Brinda wasn't ordinary.
She had spent too many years living in shadows to mistake a pleasant expression for harmlessness.
