Again he sought for her, and again he saw her, standing on the hillside path, holding a wide, shallow basket with both hands, and facing him, almost as though she had expected to see him. She was fully grown now, perhaps twenty years old. Sevry noticed the neckline of her pale green dress first; he couldn’t help it, any man would have. The dress was cut low, exposing a generous amount of fair, full, lightly freckled bosom. Then, for the first time, Sevry saw the object that dangled from a fine silver chain around her neck, resting just above the cleft between her breasts: a small crystal vial, crafted in a style that had been lost when Savaru was destroyed.
Savarunan crystal. And, Sevry now realized, despite the red hair, green eyes, and softly rounded features, the young woman had a fine-boned Savarunan face. She could only be the granddaughter or great-granddaughter of Juzeva and the red-haired Madrinan prince.
Sevry stepped towards the young woman, and into nothingness.