(Azriel POV)
Azriel watched her pale pinched face in the mirror. A halo of ringlets surrounded her face as she looked at herself unhappily. The high neck navy blue dress made her look tiny and pale. The twins stood behind her fussing over a tiara they were trying to place on her right now. The dragon pendant rested on a chain nestled between her breasts.
No one could say she looked like a blushing bride. Instead she looked like an unhappy woman going to a funeral. The master tailor had come in the morning and given her the dress with the cape and also a pair of matching navy trousers. She had looked at him in surprise, wondering why she would need trousers to wear under a dress, but he had simply shrugged and said, "Mistress Elena say trousers also, so I make trousers."
