Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. And not on Melusine’s account, but to see Prudence, who had no use for a cavalier. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. “Forgive me,” he said, “but I want to hear it from your sister.
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