From the window of her room, she could see the sea and the sky. Hard to see much else from the top of the highest tower in a castle perched on a cliff.

On the best days, pale, fluffy clouds floated weightlessly in a cornflower sky, while their reflections skittered over the cerulean sea below. Occasionally, the peaceful sea was smashed into sparkling azure fragments by unquiet waves, or shattered by the passage of one of her father’s ships, his sigil brightly periwinkle against the deep ultramarine background.

On other days, rain would pelt against the panes of her windows. When that happened, no matter what she started, she would find herself watching the drops as they trailed across the diamonds of glass set in lead, alternating between their natural state and the pale cobalt of the stain.

At night, dressed in a teal gown, she’d look out at the sapphire sky, bejewelled with stars, reminded of a velvet gown of similar fabric worn by a woman who used to visit occasionally, and cry when she was taken away.