AYLETH
Suddenly her view of Etan was gone—instead a large, leather-clad chest filled her line of sight. Irritated, she looked up to find a tow-headed man, tall and broad, smiling at her.
"Good morning, Your Highness," he said, and bowed, though not low enough to give her a clear view of Etan."
"Good Morning, Lord…?"
"Trystan Shawd, Prince of Andaluve," he said with a wide smile. He wasn't handsome the way Etan was handsome—all dark, flashing eyes and angular strength. He was… rounder. Cheerful. Ruddy is the word her mother would have used, but Ayleth sensed that, were she not already distracted, she would have enjoyed him. He seemed happy.
Realizing he'd introduced himself, she quickly curtseyed and smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Highness."
"Trystan, please," he said with an even bigger smile.
