• TWO WEEKS LATER, FORT SANDRINGHAM
"A goatee, really?" In the long halls of the [Sunling] cove, Ravenna de Vríes pulled playfully at the short beard of a tall blonde. The gold-haired lad with whom she joked in the mess quarters of the military estate was indeed easy on the eyes. He reddened and pulled away. She didn't stop her nudging. "Well, well, Percival Van Imperia, I'll be!"
Corazón stepped in through the damask double doors, granting new voice to those already in the mess hall. "Percival freaking Imperia. Percival the Golden. Percy of the Glorious Faeries!" She praised the hay-blond dude some more—very much like army buddies would do reconnecting at a tavern after a tour in the Badlands.
