The age of seventeen is an oddly poignant one for Rainne. It is that bittersweet era where she is forced to reconcile the abandonment of her girlhood -- the dinner parties, the brightly-lit balls, the dashing young gentlemen and her whirling dances -- with the realization that there is no return. Soon what beauty she possesses will fade, the suitors will dwindle. Her chaste white skin will tan from hours in the sun, her hands, despite her best efforts at their preservation, may develop calluses from her work.

But for now, Rainne has thrown herself into her work, her gaiety, her new life. Though compliments be paid her of her beauty, admiration be accorded for her work, and respect given for her socio-political influence, nothing she possesses is more vividly treasured than the sweetness of her independence.

Having left so much behind, the only recourse left to Rainne is to forge the path ahead. Should it lead to success or sorrow, the only constant is her dignity and wit which she wields as her finest weapons.