Frey by Melissa Wright
Chapter Four
Flame
“Freya,” he repeated in a softer voice as he lifted my chin. He appeared to have real concern as he glanced from what I was sure was now a welt to my eyes, and I struggled to keep the tears that were welling up from falling. I’d not had a caring touch from anyone for so long I didn’t know how to react. And I was ashamed. Fannie had authority over me, but I wasn’t a child. It was only that I had nowhere else to go. That I couldn’t leave.
“You’ll need to learn protection spells.”
“I… I can’t…”
“We won’t tell Francine or the Council,” he promised, and I didn’t miss that he’d used Fannie’s real name. Then, softer, “We won’t even tell Junnie.”
I didn’t understand. The cold, wet ground seeped through the material covering my legs, and I shifted, fidgeting as I looked up at him. “I mean I can’t do magic, just useless stuff… lighting candles…”
“Then we start with fire,” he said.
Chevelle lowered his hand to mine and stood, pulling me up and toward the center of the clearing. When we’d distanced ourselves from the tree line, he stopped and turned back to me, still holding my right hand. My eyes followed his as he looked down at our clasped hands and a cool blue flame lit on my right sleeve.
Immediately, my free hand jerked up to extinguish it. Chevelle took it to keep me from smacking at the flame, which had already disappeared. “No,” he said, “use the magic. Feel it.”
I nodded and he returned his gaze to our hands, now both connected. He couldn’t have been much older than I, but his hands dwarfed mine and it made me feel suddenly, fleetingly, like a child again.
A spark lit at the hem of my left sleeve and slowly worked its way up my arm. I wanted the fire off me, needed it put out. When I concentrated on that, the flame flickered. It flared again and Chevelle squeezed my hands; I had to be able to do this. I focused hard on the base of the flame as it wavered and then fell back toward the hem, where it finally choked off. I glanced up at Chevelle. He looked pleased.
“Again,” he said as he stepped back and released my hands.
The meadow seemed to open as a circle of fire grew in front of me. I tried to see past it, through the flames to Chevelle, and then it was gone. He was further back now, raising his right hand so a stream of fire followed it, arcing in my direction. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to extinguish it before it hit me. My feet were frozen in place. I could only think of one thing: Fight fire with fire. I flung my arm toward the incoming stream of flames and a tongue of fire akin to a dragon’s shot out and collided with it.
I was shocked. I’d only used my power to light candles and lanterns. I’d had no idea I could produce such a vicious plume of flames. I looked to Chevelle. “Yes,” he exalted.
He raised his arms above his head to construct a massive circle of blazing heat. When his eyes returned to mine, he smiled. He liked playing with fire. And then he shoved the fireball toward me with frightening speed.
I threw both hands in front of me, palms out, and forced the largest mass I could in response. Chevelle flicked his wrist and the flame dodged up and angled back toward me. I shook my hands frantically, spitting sharp bullets of heat at it, hoping to break it up. But he pulled his hands apart and the thing split, each side curving toward me; there were two now, closing in fast.
I leapt forward just as they collided where I’d been standing and lost my footing while I watched the fireworks behind me. Spinning into a tumble to keep from landing flat on my face, I rolled to my feet, still thrilling from the fire play. From magic. I let out a breathless laugh and Chevelle joined in, though in all fairness, he might have merely been amused by my fall.
We spent the next several hours there in the meadow, sculpting my craft. The exercises grew increasingly more difficult, but it seemed Chevelle was only toying with me. He must have had experience with fire magic; the flames he produced behaved like an obedient dog. Mine, on the other hand, were about as compliant as a wet cat.
Exhausted by the day’s work, I began to sway a bit. Chevelle led me to the base of an old willow tree and I slumped against the trunk, sliding down to lie on my back. Chevelle reclined against the tree, his legs coming to rest just above my head in the soft grass.
I gazed through the immense mass of leaves and branches overhead and breathed deeply. I felt the need to explain the welt, and my eyes rose toward him as I lightly touched my cheek. “I was searching for my mother’s things…”
He didn’t respond, staring straight out into the meadow, so I returned to watching the canopy of leaves.
“I can’t remember her,” I said. I hadn’t discussed this with anyone before, but once I started talking, I couldn’t seem to stop. Without his response, I kept on, explaining my dreams—purposefully leaving out the part I had read about the northern clans—and closed my eyes in an attempt to see them clearer. I was recalling the details, her dark hair blowing in the wind, the feeling of being trapped, when my thoughts faded into the blackness of sleep.
I woke in my own bed, the room lit by the dim light of a single flame suspended above my table. A flash of embarrassment hit as it dawned on me Chevelle must have placed me there; he must have seen my home, my room. And then I smiled, because he had left me a flame.
I stretched my entire body, rejuvenated from the rest. I was unsure how long I’d slept but it looked like the sun was rising again and I wanted to be out of the house before I ran into Fannie.
It was probably too early to hope to see Chevelle. I’d spent the last two days with him, but he hadn’t revealed anything of himself and that had only made me more curious. I retrieved the documents I’d hidden after my second trip to the library to find out whether they added anything to the report from the Council’s record-keeper. There wasn’t much new there, mostly more names, but I did notice a watermark on one of the pages. I held it up to the light to better see. It was a Council marking and something else.
I dug out the first pages from under my mattress and examined them closer. The pages directly from the record-keeper’s report all included the same Council mark plus a string of characters. Trying to decode them, I realized one of the symbols might simply be a page number. And the others, they were probably locators. I felt like a fool. They were just like the codes used in the library, only more elaborate. No one really used the ciphers, you didn’t need them with magic, but they had been added to many of the pages when the fairies had started tracking clan histories.
I was holding in my hand the information I needed to find the northern clans in the Council’s library. My stomach tightened, but I found myself getting up and heading toward the village, regardless of the consequence.
I argued with that impulsive part of me the entire way to town.
I shouldn’t do it. I couldn’t.
But I was. I was going to do it.
And if I got caught?
I could claim ignorance. The entire clan thought I was an imbecile in any case.
Maybe I would just see how close I could get. Maybe just to try…
And then I was there, standing in front of the Council building and walking in. My attempt at stealth was a poor endeavor, but no one ever seemed to pay much attention to me anyway. I casually leaned around a doorway to see into the next room, where a small group of villagers stood, blocking my way. They spoke in low voices, and as I tried to figure a way past, something seized my attention.
“Evelyn has been a model citizen… doesn’t seem right…”
My nerves twitched as the worry from that day returned. As I remembered the risk I’d put myself under coming here. I strained to listen but could only pick out parts of the conversation.
“Well on her way to becoming a Council member… if anyone should leave…”
“Yes, but who can trust him…”
“Why can’t we simply banish… who knows if the spells will even hold… dark magic can’t be trusted…”
I was trying to hear them, i
rritated they were talking so low, and the harder I listened, the more I perceived a dull, buzzing hum. My ears popped. And then, at once, the group began to scratch at themselves feverishly, clawing at forearms, abdomens, and necks. Each wore an uncomfortable, even frightened, expression as they hurried out of the room and into an inner Council chamber.
I was considering the strangeness of it as I made my way through the now-vacant room, but was distracted by the sight of the library door. I had no way of knowing if there would be a protection spell on the entry. When I walked through, there were no obvious repercussions and I assumed that, with so many Council members around, they must not have thought it necessary.
The Council library was overwhelming. It housed copies of all the books in the village library as well as hundreds more that were too delicate or important for public use. And if you believed Fannie’s theories, they held secret documents here as well, things they didn’t want commonly known.
The walls were stark white, like carved marble, and the room felt cold and empty, despite the abundance inside. I found a shelf to hide behind and placed my pilfered documents on the floor. I examined the shelves in front of me, looking for a match to the symbols, and found the sections to be arranged by groups, each shelf divided by categories within. I walked the library in search of the section marked for either of the characters listed on my documents, and was about to give up when I noticed some encased racks in the center of the room. I checked the small section, seeing immediately the symbols fit.
I smiled, thinking how easy it had been as I slid my fingertips across the volumes on that shelf. My fingers tingled as they crossed a thin section of pages bound together. I slid them out just as I became aware of some sort of commotion… that sounded like it was getting closer.
No, not a tingle indicating what I was looking for. It was a protection spell.
I ran.
As I shot through the rooms, all I could think of was not getting caught. I shoved the pages under my shirt before I made it through the last door. The village was crowded with elves, oblivious to my horror. The protection spell must have only alerted council. I ran from town and pushed through the brush at the edge of the village, taking the shortest direction out of the boundaries. I kept running until I became winded and then hastily searched for some kind of shelter. Burrowing deep in a briar patch, struggling to catch my breath, I wrenched the wad of papers from under my shirt, buried them in the soil beside me, and then waited for my punishment to come.
But no one was coming. I was naïve to think they would chase me like hounds on a fox. They had magic—they were High Council.
I stayed in the patch of briars for most of the day, cowering despite myself, but as the sun lowered in the sky, I crawled out on my belly to start the long walk toward home.
It was late by the time I reached the tree and I was tired enough I didn’t care as much about being caught. I didn’t even know if they knew who broke the seal, if they knew I was the guilty party. But I was still quiet as I entered the house, then my room, and slid into bed.
The next morning I slipped out early to call on Junnie. When I reached her door, it was cracked open again. I pushed it aside and scanned the front room, to no avail. I walked through to check the back, but still found nothing. Junnie was exceedingly clean and organized, so I couldn’t tell if she’d even been home. I wandered back to the front door and was surprised by a tall figure there. The elaborate robe and tassels of a decorated council member blocked my way and the fear returned.
“Elfreda.”
I cautiously dipped my head in respect.
“Juniper Fountain has received the calling.”
I stared at him in disbelief, stuttering out a, “Wha—” But then I caught myself, because I had heard clear enough. The more important question was, “When?”
He grimaced at my disrespectful manner. “Not long.”
Not long? Not long ago? Not long from now? I felt sick. I knew I was testing his patience, but I had to keep pushing. “Where?”
His mouth tightened. “That is council business, Elfreda. That is Juniper Fountain’s path, not your own.” He stepped aside and rolled his hand to encourage me out. “Make your way.”
I pushed past him feverishly, starting toward town. But I quickly recalled the incident at the library and turned, heading toward home. Until I remembered my run-in with Fannie. I had nowhere to go. A pain throbbed deep in my chest. Instinct pushing me, I ran for the clearing where I’d learned with Chevelle.
He was there, waiting for me. The pain in my chest dulled a little. Or maybe it was only overwhelmed by a new pressure. I crossed to him slowly. Junnie was all I’d had since I came here and now she was gone. For a hundred years, she’d be gone. I wanted nothing more of Fannie. Nothing more of any of this. I didn’t know what I would do, but by the time I reached Chevelle, I knew what I wanted: to retrieve my mother’s things from the vault. I would leave this wretched place behind.
I made my stance more formal to match his as I said, “I want to learn transfer magic.”
His mouth tightened and he turned his head, a half shake.
“You taught me fire,” I argued.
“For protection, Freya.”
“Please,” I begged. He hesitated. I didn’t know how to convince him. Was it too soon for me to learn? I knew there was an order to the spells, knew you must earn the knowledge. If you went too fast or out of sequence you could endanger yourself.
“There is no hurry,” he tried to persuade me.
“There is,” I insisted. “I am running.” I didn’t know why I chose that word. I wasn’t bound here. Leaving would have sufficed, but it felt like running, felt like escape. And I knew I was trapped. Someone would stop me. Yes, I was running.
My head swung to locate a noise at the edge of the clearing behind me. Long robes… two council members. My throat went dry and Chevelle grabbed my shoulders as he spoke in a low voice. “Home, Freya. Run.” I didn’t hesitate, I sprinted straight home without looking back.
The house seemed empty but I didn’t check. Heart pounding, I went directly to my room and closed the door behind me. The single flame still flickered above my bedside table, and as I walked closer, I noticed a package on my bed. I spun my hand and lit the room to better see. It was a large ivory box tied with tweed. There was a small note under the knot.
Dearest Elfreda,
I must away without saying goodbye. I am sure you cannot understand, but please trust in me. Don this immediately. —J.
I tugged at the tie and the string fell away. I sucked in air as I opened the lid. It seemed like I couldn’t quite catch my breath anymore. Reaching inside to draw out the long white gown, I could not fathom Junnie’s reasoning. But she must have gone through much to get me this package. Numbly, I stared at her words while I unfastened my shirt and sash. The pouch I had rescued from the vault fell to the bed. How had I forgotten? I kicked off my shoes and pulled my top and pants off before sliding the gown over my head, straightening the length with my hands. The corset laced tight at my waist, the plunging neckline lower than anything I would ever wear.
I retrieved the leather pouch from the bed to examine the contents, but before I loosened the binding I heard a crash behind me; three council guards had busted open my door. I tucked the pouch under the long bell sleeve of the dress as they crossed the room to seize me by the arms.
Flame
“Freya,” he repeated in a softer voice as he lifted my chin. He appeared to have real concern as he glanced from what I was sure was now a welt to my eyes, and I struggled to keep the tears that were welling up from falling. I’d not had a caring touch from anyone for so long I didn’t know how to react. And I was ashamed. Fannie had authority over me, but I wasn’t a child. It was only that I had nowhere else to go. That I couldn’t leave.
“You’ll need to learn protection spells.”
“I… I can’t…”
“We won’t tell Francine or the Council,” he promised, and I didn’t miss that he’d used Fannie’s real name. Then, softer, “We won’t even tell Junnie.”
I didn’t understand. The cold, wet ground seeped through the material covering my legs, and I shifted, fidgeting as I looked up at him. “I mean I can’t do magic, just useless stuff… lighting candles…”
“Then we start with fire,” he said.
Chevelle lowered his hand to mine and stood, pulling me up and toward the center of the clearing. When we’d distanced ourselves from the tree line, he stopped and turned back to me, still holding my right hand. My eyes followed his as he looked down at our clasped hands and a cool blue flame lit on my right sleeve.
Immediately, my free hand jerked up to extinguish it. Chevelle took it to keep me from smacking at the flame, which had already disappeared. “No,” he said, “use the magic. Feel it.”
I nodded and he returned his gaze to our hands, now both connected. He couldn’t have been much older than I, but his hands dwarfed mine and it made me feel suddenly, fleetingly, like a child again.
A spark lit at the hem of my left sleeve and slowly worked its way up my arm. I wanted the fire off me, needed it put out. When I concentrated on that, the flame flickered. It flared again and Chevelle squeezed my hands; I had to be able to do this. I focused hard on the base of the flame as it wavered and then fell back toward the hem, where it finally choked off. I glanced up at Chevelle. He looked pleased.
“Again,” he said as he stepped back and released my hands.
The meadow seemed to open as a circle of fire grew in front of me. I tried to see past it, through the flames to Chevelle, and then it was gone. He was further back now, raising his right hand so a stream of fire followed it, arcing in my direction. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to extinguish it before it hit me. My feet were frozen in place. I could only think of one thing: Fight fire with fire. I flung my arm toward the incoming stream of flames and a tongue of fire akin to a dragon’s shot out and collided with it.
I was shocked. I’d only used my power to light candles and lanterns. I’d had no idea I could produce such a vicious plume of flames. I looked to Chevelle. “Yes,” he exalted.
He raised his arms above his head to construct a massive circle of blazing heat. When his eyes returned to mine, he smiled. He liked playing with fire. And then he shoved the fireball toward me with frightening speed.
I threw both hands in front of me, palms out, and forced the largest mass I could in response. Chevelle flicked his wrist and the flame dodged up and angled back toward me. I shook my hands frantically, spitting sharp bullets of heat at it, hoping to break it up. But he pulled his hands apart and the thing split, each side curving toward me; there were two now, closing in fast.
I leapt forward just as they collided where I’d been standing and lost my footing while I watched the fireworks behind me. Spinning into a tumble to keep from landing flat on my face, I rolled to my feet, still thrilling from the fire play. From magic. I let out a breathless laugh and Chevelle joined in, though in all fairness, he might have merely been amused by my fall.
We spent the next several hours there in the meadow, sculpting my craft. The exercises grew increasingly more difficult, but it seemed Chevelle was only toying with me. He must have had experience with fire magic; the flames he produced behaved like an obedient dog. Mine, on the other hand, were about as compliant as a wet cat.
Exhausted by the day’s work, I began to sway a bit. Chevelle led me to the base of an old willow tree and I slumped against the trunk, sliding down to lie on my back. Chevelle reclined against the tree, his legs coming to rest just above my head in the soft grass.
I gazed through the immense mass of leaves and branches overhead and breathed deeply. I felt the need to explain the welt, and my eyes rose toward him as I lightly touched my cheek. “I was searching for my mother’s things…”
He didn’t respond, staring straight out into the meadow, so I returned to watching the canopy of leaves.
“I can’t remember her,” I said. I hadn’t discussed this with anyone before, but once I started talking, I couldn’t seem to stop. Without his response, I kept on, explaining my dreams—purposefully leaving out the part I had read about the northern clans—and closed my eyes in an attempt to see them clearer. I was recalling the details, her dark hair blowing in the wind, the feeling of being trapped, when my thoughts faded into the blackness of sleep.
I woke in my own bed, the room lit by the dim light of a single flame suspended above my table. A flash of embarrassment hit as it dawned on me Chevelle must have placed me there; he must have seen my home, my room. And then I smiled, because he had left me a flame.
I stretched my entire body, rejuvenated from the rest. I was unsure how long I’d slept but it looked like the sun was rising again and I wanted to be out of the house before I ran into Fannie.
It was probably too early to hope to see Chevelle. I’d spent the last two days with him, but he hadn’t revealed anything of himself and that had only made me more curious. I retrieved the documents I’d hidden after my second trip to the library to find out whether they added anything to the report from the Council’s record-keeper. There wasn’t much new there, mostly more names, but I did notice a watermark on one of the pages. I held it up to the light to better see. It was a Council marking and something else.
I dug out the first pages from under my mattress and examined them closer. The pages directly from the record-keeper’s report all included the same Council mark plus a string of characters. Trying to decode them, I realized one of the symbols might simply be a page number. And the others, they were probably locators. I felt like a fool. They were just like the codes used in the library, only more elaborate. No one really used the ciphers, you didn’t need them with magic, but they had been added to many of the pages when the fairies had started tracking clan histories.
I was holding in my hand the information I needed to find the northern clans in the Council’s library. My stomach tightened, but I found myself getting up and heading toward the village, regardless of the consequence.
I argued with that impulsive part of me the entire way to town.
I shouldn’t do it. I couldn’t.
But I was. I was going to do it.
And if I got caught?
I could claim ignorance. The entire clan thought I was an imbecile in any case.
Maybe I would just see how close I could get. Maybe just to try…
And then I was there, standing in front of the Council building and walking in. My attempt at stealth was a poor endeavor, but no one ever seemed to pay much attention to me anyway. I casually leaned around a doorway to see into the next room, where a small group of villagers stood, blocking my way. They spoke in low voices, and as I tried to figure a way past, something seized my attention.
“Evelyn has been a model citizen… doesn’t seem right…”
My nerves twitched as the worry from that day returned. As I remembered the risk I’d put myself under coming here. I strained to listen but could only pick out parts of the conversation.
“Well on her way to becoming a Council member… if anyone should leave…”
“Yes, but who can trust him…”
“Why can’t we simply banish… who knows if the spells will even hold… dark magic can’t be trusted…”
I was trying to hear them, i
I was considering the strangeness of it as I made my way through the now-vacant room, but was distracted by the sight of the library door. I had no way of knowing if there would be a protection spell on the entry. When I walked through, there were no obvious repercussions and I assumed that, with so many Council members around, they must not have thought it necessary.
The Council library was overwhelming. It housed copies of all the books in the village library as well as hundreds more that were too delicate or important for public use. And if you believed Fannie’s theories, they held secret documents here as well, things they didn’t want commonly known.
The walls were stark white, like carved marble, and the room felt cold and empty, despite the abundance inside. I found a shelf to hide behind and placed my pilfered documents on the floor. I examined the shelves in front of me, looking for a match to the symbols, and found the sections to be arranged by groups, each shelf divided by categories within. I walked the library in search of the section marked for either of the characters listed on my documents, and was about to give up when I noticed some encased racks in the center of the room. I checked the small section, seeing immediately the symbols fit.
I smiled, thinking how easy it had been as I slid my fingertips across the volumes on that shelf. My fingers tingled as they crossed a thin section of pages bound together. I slid them out just as I became aware of some sort of commotion… that sounded like it was getting closer.
No, not a tingle indicating what I was looking for. It was a protection spell.
I ran.
As I shot through the rooms, all I could think of was not getting caught. I shoved the pages under my shirt before I made it through the last door. The village was crowded with elves, oblivious to my horror. The protection spell must have only alerted council. I ran from town and pushed through the brush at the edge of the village, taking the shortest direction out of the boundaries. I kept running until I became winded and then hastily searched for some kind of shelter. Burrowing deep in a briar patch, struggling to catch my breath, I wrenched the wad of papers from under my shirt, buried them in the soil beside me, and then waited for my punishment to come.
But no one was coming. I was naïve to think they would chase me like hounds on a fox. They had magic—they were High Council.
I stayed in the patch of briars for most of the day, cowering despite myself, but as the sun lowered in the sky, I crawled out on my belly to start the long walk toward home.
It was late by the time I reached the tree and I was tired enough I didn’t care as much about being caught. I didn’t even know if they knew who broke the seal, if they knew I was the guilty party. But I was still quiet as I entered the house, then my room, and slid into bed.
The next morning I slipped out early to call on Junnie. When I reached her door, it was cracked open again. I pushed it aside and scanned the front room, to no avail. I walked through to check the back, but still found nothing. Junnie was exceedingly clean and organized, so I couldn’t tell if she’d even been home. I wandered back to the front door and was surprised by a tall figure there. The elaborate robe and tassels of a decorated council member blocked my way and the fear returned.
“Elfreda.”
I cautiously dipped my head in respect.
“Juniper Fountain has received the calling.”
I stared at him in disbelief, stuttering out a, “Wha—” But then I caught myself, because I had heard clear enough. The more important question was, “When?”
He grimaced at my disrespectful manner. “Not long.”
Not long? Not long ago? Not long from now? I felt sick. I knew I was testing his patience, but I had to keep pushing. “Where?”
His mouth tightened. “That is council business, Elfreda. That is Juniper Fountain’s path, not your own.” He stepped aside and rolled his hand to encourage me out. “Make your way.”
I pushed past him feverishly, starting toward town. But I quickly recalled the incident at the library and turned, heading toward home. Until I remembered my run-in with Fannie. I had nowhere to go. A pain throbbed deep in my chest. Instinct pushing me, I ran for the clearing where I’d learned with Chevelle.
He was there, waiting for me. The pain in my chest dulled a little. Or maybe it was only overwhelmed by a new pressure. I crossed to him slowly. Junnie was all I’d had since I came here and now she was gone. For a hundred years, she’d be gone. I wanted nothing more of Fannie. Nothing more of any of this. I didn’t know what I would do, but by the time I reached Chevelle, I knew what I wanted: to retrieve my mother’s things from the vault. I would leave this wretched place behind.
I made my stance more formal to match his as I said, “I want to learn transfer magic.”
His mouth tightened and he turned his head, a half shake.
“You taught me fire,” I argued.
“For protection, Freya.”
“Please,” I begged. He hesitated. I didn’t know how to convince him. Was it too soon for me to learn? I knew there was an order to the spells, knew you must earn the knowledge. If you went too fast or out of sequence you could endanger yourself.
“There is no hurry,” he tried to persuade me.
“There is,” I insisted. “I am running.” I didn’t know why I chose that word. I wasn’t bound here. Leaving would have sufficed, but it felt like running, felt like escape. And I knew I was trapped. Someone would stop me. Yes, I was running.
My head swung to locate a noise at the edge of the clearing behind me. Long robes… two council members. My throat went dry and Chevelle grabbed my shoulders as he spoke in a low voice. “Home, Freya. Run.” I didn’t hesitate, I sprinted straight home without looking back.
The house seemed empty but I didn’t check. Heart pounding, I went directly to my room and closed the door behind me. The single flame still flickered above my bedside table, and as I walked closer, I noticed a package on my bed. I spun my hand and lit the room to better see. It was a large ivory box tied with tweed. There was a small note under the knot.
Dearest Elfreda,
I must away without saying goodbye. I am sure you cannot understand, but please trust in me. Don this immediately. —J.
I tugged at the tie and the string fell away. I sucked in air as I opened the lid. It seemed like I couldn’t quite catch my breath anymore. Reaching inside to draw out the long white gown, I could not fathom Junnie’s reasoning. But she must have gone through much to get me this package. Numbly, I stared at her words while I unfastened my shirt and sash. The pouch I had rescued from the vault fell to the bed. How had I forgotten? I kicked off my shoes and pulled my top and pants off before sliding the gown over my head, straightening the length with my hands. The corset laced tight at my waist, the plunging neckline lower than anything I would ever wear.
I retrieved the leather pouch from the bed to examine the contents, but before I loosened the binding I heard a crash behind me; three council guards had busted open my door. I tucked the pouch under the long bell sleeve of the dress as they crossed the room to seize me by the arms.