One minute she is alone. The next, a woman is there with her. Her figure is willowy, almost androgynous. Her face is a masque, as if for the Longest Night, and her silver and grey dress, billowy silk and gauze, would be at home during the Longest Night as well. Her hair is a billow of black shadow and her skin, what can be seen of it, is only a shade or so lighter than the surface of her masque.

"Welcome, Melisande Shahrizhai de la Courcel," she murmurs.