Alessandra bemoaned, keenly feeling its absence as she had every day this past fortnight. She was nearly a month at Corburry now and had yet to see a full blue sky or feel the sun’s heat upon skin that was often covered in prickly bumps. At first, it had been an interesting change from the Maghrib, but now it was almost monotonous. Though the green of England was beyond compare, the price paid for such beauty seemed too high. “I thought never to tire of rainbows,” she muttered. “Now I am nearly sick of them.” “Come away from the window,” Melissant urged. Lifting her chin from her hands, Alessandra looked over her shoulder. Dressed in a gown of lustrous velvet, its buttons loosened as a defense against the overheated room, her sister sat upon the bed as far from the fire as possible. Propped in her lap was an illuminated tome, its warped and discolored pages attesting to its respectable age. Alessandra smiled as she reflected on their friendship. In spite of Agnes’s attempts to keep James’s daughters apart, the girl was a bit of a rebel.
