Daisy. She seemed to blaze like a torch. James had always known she was beautiful—had he always known? Had there been a moment he had realized it?—but still the sight of her hit him like a blow. She was all fire, all heat and light, from the gold silk roses woven into her dark red hair to the ribbons and beads on her golden dress. The hilt of Cortana was visible over her left shoulder; the straps that secured it had been fashioned from thick gold ribbons. “By the Angel, she is brave,” he heard Matthew murmur, and he could not help but agree:
