He heard her before he saw her.
The soft sound of footsteps on the stone path. Light and unhurried.
Azael straightened up from the gatepost and turned. And then he forgot, briefly, what he had been doing. The reason for that was walking towards him.
Arista walked toward him through the morning light wearing a white sundress that fell to just below her knees.
Thin straps over her shoulders. Simple and clean. Her long crimson hair was down, loose and flowing freely behind her, catching the early sunlight in a way that made it look almost like embers. Her skin, lightly tanned from years of training outdoors, glowed warm and soft in the pale morning air.
Her soft mounds were held gently by the white fabric, giving them a perfect round shape. Her waist was thin, and below it flowed the white fabric.
She looked entirely different from the sister who woke him up before dawn to train.
She looked, in a word, breathtaking.
She met his eyes and smiled.
"Hello, Azael."
