Chapter three(8)

Cecy thought the eyes looked quite beautiful, and the light reflecting off the irises made the green worlds shimmer with fractured gold light, like sunlight diving through the cracks between the leaves on a warm spring morning. 
But Lydia’s reaction startled her out of her partly objective admiration. 
(Cecy had pinpointed Lydia as one of those who are never stutter or stumble over words, who would respond to every question coolly and with grace. She had seen the other girl pull out her dagger with no change in expression, felt the cold hard metal at her throat, at which memory Cecy still shivered with fear. These are emotions and movements that Cecy could define, though they might seem crazy or downright dangerous in another’s eyes. And she liked the feeling of being in control of her surroundings, which made her not as frightened as she might have been, since a part of her was constantly studying the surroundings rationally and unconsciously.

But she could not use words to describe the look on Lydia’s face. She looked calm, not too calm, her face perfectly natural, smiling faintly as she met the boy’s eyes and began to introduce him to Cecy, her tone neutral and light.)