Monday: Where Aveline’s voice had grated and hissed and snarled, Cassandry’s fell upon his ears like the music of a sweet, gentle rain.
Tuesday: As they moved away from Gerolt, he heard Egelina whisper something to her mother in a hiss far less meek than the murmured acknowledgments she had been responding to the knights’ compliments with.
Wednesday: And then it was time for the ring and the betrothal kiss. Cassandry heard a soft, “Ow!” and a muffled, “Sorry.” as Rauffe apparently shoved the ring too hard over Egelina’s knuckle.
Thursday: (15 year-old Egelina to her mother, Cassandry) “He would much rather I be a nun—well, of course God would! And I shall tell Lord Gerolt so, even if his height does frighten me a little.”
Friday: After years of dressing drably, it had felt so bold to don the crimson, and so very, very pleasant to have a man compliment instead of condemn her for it.