She brushed her hair with long deliberate strokes; it rustled like the whisper of the trees. Twisting up the silken ropes of dark red hair into an elaborate style, she secured it with the emerald clips her husband had brought for her. He had loved adorning her with pretty things, to see her dressed so regal. She could see how other women, reluctant to admire her, nevertheless gossiped about her style not too subtly behind her back. She wore well cut, plainer dresses, of costly material to be sure, but less ostentatious than the fripperies and frills the others wore. She wore real jewels in a modest but no less expensive way. Making sure she looked the part was important; she had been doing it for a long time.
Securing her earrings, she chose an embroidered shawl from her dresser and checked she had everything with her. She took the neatly wrapped bundle with her on the way out, glancing vaguely around in the corridor to make sure she couldn't be seen. One of the suits of armour would do for a hiding place.
The evening stretched before her, she dreaded the possibility of something to happen that would derail her task. She knew she wouldn't be able to breathe easily until tonight would be over.
