At first, Micheline thought that someone had entered the Imperial Box while riding a horse. It wasn't until three heartbeats later that she realized the man leading a quartet of newcomers into the box was a horse. Or at least, he had the lower body of a horse.
Not a strong, powerful warhorse like the ones her father's knights rode, but a lean, graceful breed meant for speed.
Only this horse was a man. A tall, graceful man with long, dark hair and delicate, refined features. The styling of his tunic, if the garment could even be called a tunic, was strange, without buttons or visible fasteners. Instead, it looked like the rich, azure blue silk with its silver brocade had been wrapped around his torso, then folded neatly before a wide, silver sash tied at his waist secured everything in place.
