...She walks into a tavern in a nondescript village and by the time she leaves, three people have quit jobs they hated, one couple has reconciled over tears, and the bard has never played with more precision. Sune doesn't demand this change; she simply refuses to lie by omission about what's possible. A beauty who's learned to hate her own face looks into her eyes and sees what Sune sees. Not perfection, but the absolute rightness of the way light falls on her skin, the specific alchemy that makes this person, this face, this body a miracle of particular grace. She does not call it vanity. She calls it honesty. Behind her, the world looks more vivid, more urgent, colors more saturated. She's teaching mortals that restraint is a kind of death, and passion, messy, burning, unreasonable passion, is the only worthwhile way to live. That lesson, once learned, can never be forgotten....