Niviene glared at the woman sitting across from her, the woman looked back with an air of obstinance, her blue eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed. The priestess looked closely at the woman’s features, trying to trace the furrows of grief and pain in her eyes and the lines of her face.
She wondered if anyone who looked at her might read the trials her own life had taken. Could they see that she’d been married twice before, both men leaving her for something they considered better? Could they see that she was a mother though she’d never given birth? Could they see the shadows that lurked beneath the surface, always ready to seep through her consciousness, to shrine through the blue of her eyes, making them gray pools of madness?
If...