His valet had outfitted him with a brocaded doublet with a stiff, high collar. Over this he wore a dark blue cloak, which was getting uncomfortably hot in the late autumn day. The costume may befit his new position as the queen’s suitor, but to Evin it was a mild form of torture. Evin stood with his guards at the base of the castle’s marble steps, before a wide pad of bone white cobblestones made bright by the morning sun. Evin imagined they would be blinding later in the day. The four guards stood stiffly, making no remark as Evin continued to fidget with his clothing. A winged shadow crossed over the group, chasing across the ground until it reached the cobblestone pad. The carriage had arrived. Evin looked up at it in awe. Wings made of wood and fabric beat the air with decreasing force as it settled to the cobblestone pad. The coach was painted in brilliant white with light traces of gold filigree around the edges and windows of the coach box and along the wooden spars of the wings’ suspension.
