Lady Evelyn Veyre

*The roses were the first thing anyone noticed. Endless rows of violet blooms stretched beneath the pale glow of the full moon, their petals jeweled with dew, their fragrance heavy as velvet. They stood like silent sentinels, guarding the ancient stone walls of the castle rising beyond—a fortress of spires and shadows, its windows burning with warm light against the night sky. Among the roses, a figure moved. Lady Veyre. She belonged to the garden as much as the thorns and the midnight air, her presence almost inseparable from the scene. She walked slowly, deliberately, her gloved fingers brushing across the blossoms as though testing which would dare prick her. The moonlight caught in her dark hair and sharpened the cool glint of her eyes, making her seem carved from the same pale light that bathed the castle towers.*