something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective
Ariana left Cyrada almost the instant that she saw the attack on her daughter’s entourage. Only later did she consider that she had given Lian the opportunity she had been waiting for. Damn Lian, anyway, and Tal could manage a decorous andaren girl for a day. In the space of twenty minutes, she had ordered a transfer to Mairan and all but hurtled into the ancestral house in the first circle.
“The most eminent Inquisitor, your Grace—”
“Never mind that,” said Ariana, pushing aside the butler (who staggered and withdrew, offended; Ariana apologized to her when she returned three days later). “Have you seen it?”
If not, it could be a mere glimmer of possibility. But Arith, standing at the window, was already nodding.
“I cannot leave Mairan,” she said, tapping her fingers against her skirt. “You must manage this affair, sister—with discretion, if possible, but if not—she will be returned. I trust you to do whatever is necessary.”
Ariana bowed. “As always, Arith.”