Silax arrived at the Archivum and stepped out the carriage. He told the coachman that they'll be waiting for someone who would give him the address to their next destination.
He still had about thirty minutes before it would be seven o'clock. He had decided to get here thirty minutes earlier than the predetermined time, even though he would have to pay the coachman for the time he spent waiting.
A few minutes past seven, a horse drawn carriage arrived at the front of the Archivum.
As the carriage door swung open, Yvonne stepped out with the grace of a dancer on a moonlit stage. Her gown clung to her curves like a second skin, a shimmering emerald that matched the wings she had unveiled to Silax the night before.
The fabric was a marvel of silk, it was so light it seemed to breathe, flowing down her form in a cascade of gentle folds. It clung effortlessly at her waist, then fanned out into a skirt that trailed behind her like a rippling emerald sea.