When she woke, the view from the window was all diamonds but the glare wasn't bright enough to dispel the smile she couldn't control. Mary tried to school her face to her usual, nearly impassive smirk, but it was no use; her lips curved and she felt the strain in her cheeks. She must have grinned all night as she slept, leaping from dream to dream like Nyx jumping every fallen tree as they rode. Was that Matthew's one failing—that he didn't care to ride as she did? She could hardly think of another and didn't mean to try.