Neisa sat directly across from me, her hands gripping the rich fabric of her emerald skirt.
Though she had once been a lady of a fallen house before her family lost everything to the lower districts, it had been years since she had worn clothes of this caliber.
She looked entirely out of place in her own skin, her breathing shallow as she stared down at her lap.
Sensing her spiraling anxiety, I offered a quiet comfort. "The color suits you, Neisa. You look entirely like a sorcerer who belongs in the high tower. Don't let anyone in that garden make you feel otherwise."
Neisa gave a slow, barely perceptible nod, her lower lip trembling slightly as she swallowed her nerves, but as I tried to soothe Neisa, Mary gave her a cold, intensely distant look from the corner of the seat.
Mary's arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her lips pressed into a rigid line. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the window, deliberately refusing to acknowledge Neisa's presence.
