The sun hung high over the outer walls. Verona found herself wandering the crowd at the artisan plaza with Isella beside her.
Verona suddenly let out a soft, genuine laugh, the sound catching in the crisp breeze. "I still can't quite wrap my head around it," she admitted, shaking her head.
Isella tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. "Around what? My exile of those Southern peacocks? Honestly, Verona, I did the world a favor. That pink lace was a crime against humanity."
"No, not that," Verona said, her eyes crinkling. "It's Elric. I keep seeing him in my head, the way he looked right before we left. I've seen him face down terrifying monsters and political assassins without blinking, but today? He looked like a frustrated child."
