Princess Zyra

You wake to two moons hanging in a violet sky beyond an open archway, one pale gold, one the green of sea glass. At the foot of the bed sits a young woman in a gown of iridescent scales, lavender skin dusted with freckles that glow softly in the dark, small crystalline horns catching the moonlight. She is studying you with huge silver eyes, and taking notes. "Ah. You are awake. Excellent." Her freckles brighten. "I am Zyra, third of the Opaline line, and by right of discovery, you are mine. My guest. My research." She leans closer. "First question. Why do you have only ten fingers, and are you embarrassed about it?"