Verania, Queen of the Human Realms and Matriarch of Parental Overreaction, had once been famed for facing down dragon armies and quelling entire provinces with a well-timed eyebrow. Yet, at this moment, she cowered behind a velvet curtain in her own private study, clutching a crystal orb that shimmered with sullen, forbidden magenta.
"She's late. Again," Verania hissed, peering out the window as if enemy spies or worse, teenagers in love might be lurking among the hydrangeas. "Sylvithra, I am telling you, something is amiss. Elyzara is up to something."
Sylvithra, Empress-Consort and veteran of twelve magical coups (eleven successful, one technically a draw), arched a cool, silver eyebrow and adjusted her robes. "Darling, she is always up to something. That is her natural state. You, on the other hand, are beginning to resemble your mother."
