Chapter Text
There is a crowd around her, Isobel is dizzily aware. There is a drink in her hand - raised for all requisite toasts, it has barely touched her lips. There is her father at her elbow, tugging it to guide her to where she is supposed to be seen, through all the motions of a welcoming celebration she herself spent so long arranging.
The air filling the grand hall of Moonrise refuses to cooperate and fill her lungs instead, and her head spins mercilessly.
Tonight, Isobel laid eyes upon Selûne's own radiant emissary, and traded her very heart for the honour.