One wouldn’t expect, with the sort of stoicism Aster’s mother usually displayed, that she would throw a great party.

Going by looks alone, Aster was sure the unknowing eye would expect her parties to be dull and stuffy, full of dull and stuffy people eating bland and boring food, talking about dull, stuffy and bland and boring topics while minstrels played as softly as they could. And if he’d not known his mother any better, he would fully believe that too. ...