By Joy Pixley
Lady Oraellenna entered flamboyantly, flaunting her new designer’s creations. Aster, her previous designer, assessed. Sparkling birds carried elaborate hair twists. Vines curled up her arms into a leafy tiara. Iridescent petals formed the gown, dancing in mesmerizing patterns, flashing enough skin to prompt whispers. Was she or wasn’t she?
Tacky, Aster thought. But, as Oraellenna said, he was old. Traditional. Boring.
Old for wizards also means experienced. Powerful.
Foolhardy woman, prioritizing style over security when commissioning floating clothes.
Aster examined the spells, found his moment. Everything fell at once.
Now that was worth the bribe to get in.