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“Her eyes were a shade between amber and brown. Her face was scrubbed clean, void of any of the creams that some women favored to add color to their lips and cheeks. She had made no effort to hide the smattering of freckles on her nose, as some women were wont to do. He felt something inside him tighten. Oh, but she was a beauty, a sweet, natural beauty- not perfection. And it was that very unadorned quality that made her more beautiful still. Little tendrils of hair, the color of chestnuts turning in the sunlight, trailed from her nape and her temples. And there, in front of her ears. It was as if she'd wound her hair in a loose topknot and hadn't given it another thought. He wondered if she was the absentminded sort.”

“She browsed many a shop for just the right gown. The dressmaker had started it for another woman, who had decided she did not want it after all. A few alterations were all it needed. And it was exquisite, made of pale green silk that brought out tiny gold flecks in her eyes. The neckline was à la grecque, deep and off the shoulders, giving way to a deep vee that made her waist look unbelievably tiny.”

“Fionna loved the dark, for it lit her mind, her muse; it was truly her inspiration. It fired her imagination as nothing else could. She had never feared the depths of night, not even as a child. She reveled in it, particularly on those moonless nights, when all the world lay closed and sleeping, while she lay awake and dreaming- of legends and myths, and stories yet to be told. That was when her mind came alive, when she came alive.”