Before Halvorne could finish his apology, the entrance arch threw a long shadow across the floor.
The doors hadn't opened loudly. But the group that came through them had a way of making space rearrange itself around their presence.
A young man at the front was the first thing everyone noticed.
Not because he was imposing, but because he looked exactly like the sort of person this world kept producing to remind everyone else of their place.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, a nobleman's jaw, and a tunic of deep cobalt trimmed in silver that probably cost more than the average monthly wage.
Behind him, a woman kept half a pace to his right. Young—perhaps under 20.
Her hands were folded, eyes scanning the room. She wore a crimson robe, but it did nothing to hide her pretty face—fiery red hair, piercing red eyes, and a gaze that was impossible to forget.
Something about the way she held herself was more interesting than her companion.
