It was a nice enough room, for a privy. One of four in her family's house. But this was her privy, actually. Her very own privy. The necessary furniture was made from glazed porcelain and red oak imported from Char. The bathtub was brass, and the floor tiles were marble. It was a nice room but Inia nonetheless preferred to not spend as much time as she did right now, inside it.

The reason for her prolonged stay was as simple as embarrassing: she had no sheets to clean herself with. Usually, they were in a basket next to her, she'd use them, and they would either be cleaned or burned. But today, the basket was empty. The servants seemed to have forgotten about her needs. In light of all the activity inside the estate, Inia could forgive that. Having said that, it did not change the situation for her at all. She looked around in search of anything really. Her eyes fell on a towel. The towel she used for her hair. No. No! And her clothing or the washcloth she used for her face were both absolutely out of question.

She put her fist up to her mouth, without quite touching it, and groaned in frustration. Those damn servants. If she just could use magic, she could surely find a way out of this. She would not even have to think about it. But, alas, no.

She needed to be pure. She needed to suffer. All the time.

Shadow, take me, she thought. If my soul doesn't burn like a newborn star after this…

Enough. Get a grip on yourself. She sat up and sighed deeply. She had no cleaning sheets. This was not the end of the world. People all over the continent made do without them every day. How did they do that? Did they just dress again and went their merry way? That sounded pretty disgusting. She knew that some people used big leaves or sticks. Not much better. Others — richer people — had devices that were cleaned with water alone. That was an interesting, strange, appealing idea, yet none that was useful. Or wasn’t it? She looked at her hand. Her pretty, clean hand. If she washed it thoroughly afterward maybe... Footsteps. Inia froze up. Then, she smiled.

Of course, why hadn't she thought about that earlier?

"Who goes there?", she demanded as dignified as possible.

"It's Etenesh, milady", a voice replied.

Inia sighed again, this time in relief. Etenesh was one of her handmaidens. So, whatever the girl was doing, she could make her drop it and have her rush to her own aid.

"Etenesh, I need you to bring me a basket of cleaning sheets at once.”

The answer was a giggle that was cut shut. She had probably put her hand in front of her mouth. "Yes, milady. At once."

Inia could hear her hurrying away.

Who would have thought that the secret corridors some ancestor of questionable character had used to spy on his family would one day save his descendant's dignity?

Some Lord Orniad of old had built them in the past, and after his untimely end — either by his wife’s or son’s hands — they had been forgotten. Until her great-grandfather, who had been bothered by seeing the staff scurrying about when he tried to relax, had decided to restore the passages for the servants. They connected to every room and were guarded not only by humans but by magical wards as well.

Renewed, reinforced, and replaced regularly the wards were the reason why it was way easier to just take the Orniad’s estate by force than trying to sneak through the servants’ passages. Not that the estate would be easily conquered but even the members of the family themselves could not venture through the passages to wherever they wanted. Etenesh had not been gone for long when already a part of the wall opened. It was, at this moment, a door and a visual barrier between Inia and her servant, at once. A basket, full of sheets, was placed inside, and the door was shut. Inia didn’t even see a hand doing it. "Thank you, Etenesh", Inia said.

After she had cleaned herself and left the privy, she took a moment to compose herself. Then, she called Etenesh in. The young handmaiden entered the bedroom, again, through a hidden door in one of the walls and looked pretty guilty.

"Milady, I-"

"Hush, child", Inia said. "Let us not speak of it again, yes?"

Etenesh looked at her and nodded. "My lips are sealed, milady."

"Good girl", Inia said and smiled. "Now, I believe it is time for me to dress properly and mingle with all those important people." Or avoid mingling with them as well as I can. Etenesh nodded. She curtsied and then opened Inia's wardrobe in search of all the things Inia would need to wear on such an occasion.

Inia watched her, knowing that Etenesh knew what was customary. She hadn't been her handmaiden for a long time. Only for five years. She had come here to replace her sister:

Yewubdar had been with Inia since the both of them had been seven years old. She had been her best friend, her most treasured companion, and her handmaiden. But five years ago, after fifteen years of having her by her side, Inia had been forced to let Yewubdar go. Her handmaiden had married — a good man whom she had picked herself. Inia would have wished them all the best if it hadn’t meant the end of their time together.

Nahandrain’s upper classes believed in the separation between married and unmarried people, and it wouldn't have been customary to let a married commoner wait on an unmarried noble. Yewubdar had instead been taken on by Inia's eldest sister who could use an extra set of helping hands with her child. By now, her two children.

That of course meant, that Yewubdar had to leave the city with her husband and had to move to Dirhanlan, the Nightlands’ capital, where her new mistress lived. She had a child of her own now. A beautiful daughter who shared her mother's bronze skin, her father's black hair, and the good nature of both of them, from what Etenesh told her.

Inia wrote Yewubdar from time to time and would like to do so more often. But no matter how much she wrote, a piece of parchment and dead words could never deliver what had been between them when they had been together. And, of course, Tenja was not very thrilled to learn of their contact. Loyalty was, after all, a finite resource.

She had put her foot down when Inia asked her to let go of her claim to be the godmother of the child and let her step in instead.

‘No noble family would allow their servants to have that strong ties to others, sister. And given the circumstances, it is unlikely that anyone would consider it proper to give you that kind of power over a child. If nothing happens to the parents, they will only see a greedy girl who imposed on those unfortunate enough to be at her mercy; and if something happens to the parents… wouldn’t they blame you? Do not worry, sister, she shall live with me and be the daughter I did not conceive, if something does happen.’

She still had that letter, kept it inside her nightstand. Had read it again and again, until the parchment turned brown and gray in places.

However, before Yewubdar had left, she had asked Inia to take in her younger sister, and Inia couldn’t refuse her oldest friend. Etenesh was capable and likable enough. Inia trusted her to do her work and keep her secrets and yet, she would never be as close to her heart, as Yewubdar had been.

Without speaking, Etenesh helped Inia into her sky blue dress and combed her hair back into an unwed's braid: a broad braid that was kind of a knot but not quite. It kind of resembled a loaf of braided bread, especially with hair as light as hers. It had other names in other parts of the continent for sure.

"Would you prefer makeup or a veil, milady?"

"Makeup. This is a festivity. People will want to see my face."

"At once, milady."

Inia waited while Etenesh worked with brushes and pads, powders, and other things.

She carefully applied powder that made Inia’s skin tickle, a paste that made her lips feel funny. Cream, that cooled her forehead. Only after she was done, after she had added the golden hairnet, had drawn the last line, did Etenesh part the curtains to let Inia see herself in the only mirror in her chambers.

She looked at herself and smiled. Etenesh had done a good job, a great job, even.

Her face looked smooth and soft, yet still refined. Her blue eyes were bright and her skin clear.

"Thank you, Etenesh." The amazement in her voice was audible. Though she had seen Etenesh, and Yewubdar, working their magic time and again, it never failed to surprise her just how much could be done.

"You're welcome, milady", she said and curtsied again.

Finally, Inia managed to look away from her face and examine the piece of art Etenesh had turned her into.

The dress resembled an hourglass - it was cut close to her upper body and then turned into a pleated skirt. At her waist, it had a broad belt made from hundreds of pearls that started as an ornamental triangle around the height of her rib cage.

The dress showed no skin but had a neckline in the shape of a v, that revealed nothing but an insert of white silk and was hemmed with golden thread, that matched the hairnet’s gold tone.

She smiled again, nodded. It was enough for the occasion, and enough to satisfy her father who still believed in finding a suitor for her.

"Well, let's go", she said. Etenesh nodded and opened the door for her.

Inia turned around one last time. "You can go for today, I believe I’ll be fine. Just be back at the usual hour tomorrow."

"Thank you, milady."

‘I'll be fine now!’ It was of course a lie but nothing Etenesh could do would ease Inia's hardship. She felt every step she took toward the great ballroom. Every heartbeat.

Two servants, dressed in the livery of black and red, opened the ballroom doors for her, and she stepped in. Not into the main room but onto a gallery from where she could look down and observe.

The room was packed with people. Lords in uniform and fanciful clothes, ladies in pompous dresses. Servants in livery mingling, dancing a dance of their own next to the dance floor, twisting and turning in order to elegantly, but unobtrusively serve drinks and food and simply comply with the wishes of the nobles.

At the head of the hall was a dais and two large chairs stood there under a balcony. The balcony was white, the chairs made from white stone but decorated with dust made from dozens and hundreds of different jewels, crushed and then added to the chairs ages ago. The cushions looked soft and silvery.

Two young people sat on these chairs. A blond boy, with little facial hair, clad in blue and silver. He was tall for his age and some said quite handsome. Mirror was Inia's youngest brother; he only turned eighteen last summer.

Next to him, in a beautiful dress, dark red that turned into a rich brown and then faded into a striking must­ard color at the seam, sat his future wife.

She had long black hair, braided into countless slim braids, and dark brown skin with a reddish undertone. A round face, full lips, and gold painted around her dark brown eyes.

Princess Tiyamike was the second daughter of the King Chisomo of Ur.

She held her back straight, her chin up. Unbothered, seemingly, by all the nobles sizing her up. It was their first official appearance as a betrothed couple. They would stay here for another month and then return to Ur's capital for the wedding.

Tonight, the nobility of the Human Alliance celebrated them and their luck.

Inia didn't envy them. Tiyamike was said to be a scholar and Mirror was eighteen. Their marriage would not be easy for either of them.

The musicians to the side changed the song and the pairs of two broke up into two orderly lines, facing each other. First, the lines danced in synchronicity. One step, second step, three stamps with the left foot.

Until the first one broke the line, and someone from the other line did it as well, they switched positions.

It was a dance game.

The goal was to end up in just the right spot to dance with the person you liked. Because at the end of that part of the piece, everyone sorted into couples, again.

“Shouldn't you be down there?”

Inia turned. The gallery had two other doors and a stair that led down to the ballroom. Several alcoves with chairs and cushions, and curtains, were up here, too. The gallery was a place for privacy, a place to see without being seen. A rather ironic concept for a ballroom. And yet, she was watched: Sania stood next to her, dressed in a plain sky blue dress that fell soft to the floor. On her head she wore a bonnet that was made from velvet and cotton; it was vaguely rectangular and covered her hair and ears. The fabric had an orange, peachy shade, and was decorated with small pearls; they formed ornaments and circles and covered nearly all of the bonnet. A short veil-like kerchief was placed atop the bonnet.

Inia felt her sister examine her as well.

"You look good, little sister”, she said.

Inia smiled. "You too.”

A young poet had once said that trees grew only to see Sania smile; that they spent all these years and effort to witness these lips facing upwards, this face lighten up and these eyes twinkle. He had been a sweet one. But just as all poets, he had been a fool. And eventually, he had moved on to another lady. Another flower.

Inia thought about him often. Him and other butterflies that had come and went away so quickly.

"So. Why aren't you down there with all the other unweds?”

Inia shook her head. "I don't think I belong down there.”

Sania crossed her arms. "Why do you have to make it harder than it already is to find a suitor for you?"

"I don't."

"You do. Tenja told me you haven't visited her once since she left for the Nightlands. Don’t you know how many lords and even Nighttears aren't married yet?"

Inia rolled her eyes. "Tenja does not really want me to visit. Besides, you know how mother gets when it comes to marrying into the same family twice."

Sania pressed her lips together. Luckily, she had nothing to add there. Their mother was really particular about these kinds of things.

Lady Orniad liked to spin, be it fabric or webs of alliances. Her carefully picked and woven plans were hard to untangle - and for her children almost impossible to break free from. Only one child had done it.

"How's your wife?", Inia asked.

"She's fine. Occupied but fine."

Inia laughed. "Shadow, I wish I was occupied enough to miss this."

Sania snickered. For a moment, the distance between them didn't seem as far, the canyon not too deep to overcome.

“You are not, though. And that is good. It wouldn’t fit the occasion if only I was here to represent us.”

“Tenja’s not coming?”

Sania shook her head. “We were meant to travel together from the forest’s edge, so she sent word to me. The Silent Queen takes up all her time.”

Inia nodded.

Tenja’s husband wanted to be the next Silent King and he had a good chance to succeed, the only hindrance being that he was not next in line. Using his wife to get close to his grandmother was not stupid.

"How are your studies going?" Inia asked before silence could spread between them, and with it distance and old pain.

Sania’s face lit up. “You won’t believe it”, she said, "but we finally found something at one of the excavation sites."

"Really? What is it?” Inia felt her own eyes going big.

Sania's lips curled upwards. "It's a ruin!", she said in a hushed voice but nonetheless enthusiastic. "We are not sure yet but the proportions..." She looked around as if to make sure that nobody was eavesdropping. "It is old. We believe it might be a Giant Ruin.”

Inia starred.

If Giants had existed at one point in history, was still a matter of debate. There was precious little evidence for them as a real species. Most historians used the term for everything they encountered from before the Ages of Humans. A word for things that were impossible to comprehend, events uncategorizable. Everything with “Giant origin” was regularly reviewed, whenever new facts were dug up. It was a way to make sure that no knowledge would be lost forever just because modern-day methods could not comprehend it.

A small group of people however believed that the term had to have an origin. They argued that, aside from scientific research, there were just too many mentions, too many species who used a term with the same meaning to refer to a long-gone species. These people were led by the Ongai, who had the longest, and most comprehensive oral tradition from the Beginning until now. In Human Alliance Universities, these Giant-enthusiasts weren’t popular and usually not well-received.

Strange sources, strange beliefs, strange outcome was one of the main criticisms against these people. And it was — of course — rooted in the bias some people held against the Ongai since they invaded the Heartland all these decades ago.

But Sania had dreamt of Giants since childhood. Always the believer, nothing had been able to get that idea, that belief, to vanish or just fade. Not their upbringing, not studying in an environment very hostile to her own theory. Not her first marriage, and the abandonment of studying altogether. Everything had just strengthened her determination.

And so, after her husband died, she had declared that never again would she be part of her mother’s web.

She had left Nahandrain for the White Forest, lived and studied there for years. She had met her wife — an Ongai huntress, and they had married. Traditionally, Ongai did not marry. Raskra had done it for Sania. Inia admired Sania’s courage and envied her wings.

“A Giant ruin?” Inia asked.

"Yes. We are keeping it quiet for now until we can verify our claim, so no one sweeps in and destroys our findings." Sania practically bounced, her smile was infectious. “There are at least two rooms as big as this'', she gestured, "but we found nothing that indicates any formal use for the rooms. They have no fanciful ornaments or anything. No door hinges, either. And we found things that could just be tools. Big tools.”

Inia felt herself grinning stupidly. "I wish I could see this", she said. A genuine Giant Ruin was something she’d love to see.

"Come visit!" Sania said immediately. "Maybe in a month or two, when the rubble is cleared. You could stay awhile, I could give you a grand tour. Maybe it would be good for you to get away from here for a while."

Inia nodded. Even if nothing came from it, she would remember this moment. That she wasn't as alone as she sometimes felt. And some time away could be good for her. Especially now, with everyone being a bit crazy about Mirro’s betrothal.

An idea flashed past Inia’s eyes, and she said: "Have you talked to our future sister-in-law about this? They say she's a scholar."

Sania's face went slack for a moment, her brow was furrowed in thought. "Actually, I think she's a mathematician or something like that. Works with numbers. I don't know if she'd be interested, but maybe she knows someone.” Then, her eyes gleamed. “Oh, I bet it would do wonders for our funding if I'd get royalty interested!"

Inia laughed." I didn't think about it that way", she said.

"Well of course not! You have no idea how hard it is to get proper funding for a project as big as this."

"You could... I don't know ask father or sell your jewels?"

"No." Sania had heard exactly these arguments before. She probably heard them all the time. But selling her jewelry would mean burning a bridge even she didn’t dare to destroy. Neither would she cross it again. Her freedom had a price.

"What are you two talking about?" Inia jumped.

Jaro stood behind her. He was smaller than his brother and a bit chubby. His long, dark blond hair looked a bit messy, so did his clothes; his shirt wasn’t tugged into his pants correctly and his belt was fastened with a bit too little care. Just like his sisters, his clothing was sky blue, and it made him look paler.

"Jaro!" Inia said. "Aren't you a bit too old to sneak up on people?"

He shrugged, his face irritated. "What else am I supposed to do? I can't dance, I have to be here, I shouldn't talk to any of them", he gestured with his thumb down to the ever-changing pairs on the dance floor, "and I'm not really an interesting partner for conversations for everyone else here."

Sania said nothing. Her lips were pressed together and she looked at Jaro with a mixture of doubt, disappointment, and sadness.

"It's okay," Inia said and touched her little brother's shoulder.

"You can stay here."

He looked at her with gratitude. "Thanks, Ini", he said.

She nodded.

Sania didn't look very happy. Inia was relieved she let it go.

Their parents were still in negotiations regarding his future. Almost everything was in place, yet one slight offense - talking too intimately to another unwed noble for example - could still ruin everything. At the same time, it would be very rude for him to not celebrate his twin's plight. So he was here and left out all the same.

Inia kind of got that feeling. And just like her, he had chosen to be late over a great entrance.

They stood for a while and talked about nothing of importance. Inia and Sania doing most of the talking, only now and then Jaro asked something and Inia answered.

Servants came with drinks and left with empty glasses. The sky outside turned dark, and most people stopped to care about etiquette. Dancing had been swapped out for drinking, eating, talking. And of course for sneaking out and doing things unweds were not supposed to do.

At some point, Jaro had left to spend some time with a group of young men, Mirro had accompanied them as well.

It was alright. The twins would soon be separated and while their upbringing didn’t allow them to speak of it, they gravitated more towards each other these days.

Sania had retired shortly after, murmuring something about drinking too much, eating too little, needing sleep.

Inia, however, had stayed. In one of the alcoves with a glass of wine. Feet on the cushions, she sat and focused only on the music. Forgetting everything else.

If she did it hard enough, everything else would vanish except for the music.

"Hello", a voice said.

Inia jerked out of her daydream, then stumbled to her feet.

In the entrance of the alcove stood Princess Tiyamike.

"Your Majesty!" Inia said and curtsied.

Tiyamike shook her head. "None of that, please", she said and touched Inia's shoulder gently. "I'm not here as a princess or royalty at all. I wish to speak to you to learn more about my future husband, sister.” With that, she sat down on one of the cushions next to her. Her dress fell all around her like a fountain. She had a sturdy build; all curves, no edges. Smooth and beautiful, a gentleness and elegance to her movements.

"You are beautiful", Inia said stupidly. But it was so plain obvious it would hurt not to say it. Surprise flashed over Tiyamike's face. Then, a smile. "Thank you. I believe your people favor way slimmer women - like you. You look stunning yourself."

Inia blushed. It was not something she was used to hearing — or rather not, what she was used to thinking about herself.

Tiyamike's smile widened. "Would it make you uncomfortable to tell me about Mirro?", she asked. There was real concern in her voice and the honest opportunity to refuse. Tiyamike did feel like a sister at this moment.

Inia shook her head. "It's alright. But... keep in mind that I’m an older sibling. What I know and think of him might be very different from what you will get to know.”

Tiyamike made an agreeable sound. "I'm an older sibling myself, I get what you mean."

Inia grinned. "Good." She pulled on a cord.

Tiyamike stiffened at the move but relaxed when a servant appeared with an assortment of wine, brandy, champagne, waters, juices, and teas.

She raised an eyebrow at Inia. "I hope you don't plan to drink all of that on your own”, she said.

Inia chuckled. “Don’t worry. I don’t. I just think we might need drinks for this. So... pick your poison." So Tiyamike did, and Inia followed suit.

And for a while, after the servant was gone, there was a comfortable silence between them. Inia contemplated what to tell, and Tiyamike, no doubt what to ask. Inia would have liked to talk about something else first. Something between the two of them - more personal, in this regard. Nonetheless, she understood how important it was for Tiyamike to know as much as possible about Mirro. Inia would never refuse a bride who asked questions about the groom.

"Was your brother ever cruel to the staff?", Tiyamike asked.

"No. Not to any of my knowledge at least. We all were encouraged to have a positive, caring relationship with the servants from an early age on."

“Oh?”

"All of us had, since childhood, a chamberlain or handmaiden who was close to us. They were friends, comrades, and only began to grow into the servant role much later on."

"But they leave you when you grow up...?”

Inia cocked her head. "What makes you say that?"

"You speak in the past tense."

"Oh, no. Forgive me. My siblings are still with their comrades, save for myself and my elder sister. We gave up our handmaidens for different reasons.”

Sania, of course, could not have taken her comrade with her, after she practically fled the family.

"I see. Will this chamberlain accompany your brother to my court?”

Inia licked her lips. This was a delicate question. All other things aside, it would be Tiyamike who decided how many - and who - of Mirro’s household were allowed to stay at court at the end. In the first months, when he was getting used to his surroundings, she wouldn’t make him send anyone home but later on, it might just happen. Communicating this, however, was unwise. So, she focussed on her end of the question: "I'm not sure. He’s not married and as long as that doesn't change, we would consider it bad form. On the other hand, if he marries someone who is unwilling or unable to move, he might leave Mirro’s services as well.”

Tiyamike raised her eyebrows. "You know, we don't share your separatist standards when it comes to married and unmarried folks."

Inia was not sure if she had really known that, or just heard it as a rumor. “Oh?”, she answered anyway.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure how it works. You believe marrying changes people's lives so much, it is impossible for unmarried people to understand, right?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. As an unmarried Chamberlain, how could you really understand what your married liege needs when there are maternal troubles or the wife is in labor or when raising children is concerned? And likewise, as an unwed liege how can you know how much free time your comrade needs when to send them home, to raise their pay."

Tiyamike's eyebrow was raised even higher now and she chuckled. "We just teach our staff and children what they need to know. But maybe it's different with royalty. We can’t wait until we share experiences. We have to know beforehand and govern people who lived through things we will never truly understand because of our position. You’re not ruling, you don’t need to have that skill.” She paused, then smiled. “I don’t mean to offend you, dear sister. It’s just … so different from what I know. After I turned twelve, I started organizing my own staff because it was expected of me. It was expected that I look out for my people.” She had done what now? Inia starred.

"It's important, you see? I have four siblings and one day my father will resign or die. Then, the people will choose his successor from the bunch of us. So we all learn how to lead, how to inspire, how to organize people. We are trained in magic, warfare. We all can lead so that the best of us might. It's what makes Ur strong."

Inia nodded. She did know about Ur's way of succession. The different ways of inheriting the throne were one of the many areas of tension between Ur and the Nightlands, and as someone who would soon be related to both royal houses, she had to be aware of that. Until now, however, she had never stopped to consider what that entailed. Her brother was probably already a figure of major political interest. If only as an object and not a subject. Tiyamike would marry a stranger, and she would have to deal with his foreign ways in a manner that did not alienate the Alliance but also not her people. She needed to be someone who built bridges, and Mirro was one of the many stones in that bridge.

"Back to Mirro", Tiyamike said. Inia felt herself nodding and was very grateful that she was not drunk yet. Tiyamike was a potential queen and to underestimate a queen could cost you dearly.

“Oh dear, I think I’ve worn you out”, Tiyamike said later.

She eyed all the empty bottles of water and juices, the teapot.

Inia smiled dryly. She had, for the remainder of the night, answered Tiyamike’s questions. Always careful to neither lie nor reveal too much. And now the earliest sun rays touched the marble ground in the abandoned ballroom. Not even servants were there at this hour. Only the two of them, in that alcove. And finally, finally, Tiyamike had run out of questions, and Inia out of answers.

Her throat was dry and coarse, and she could not remember the last time she had been talking that much. Surprisingly enough, despite all the careful wording and thinking, it had been pleasant.

Tiyamike was charming and frankly hard to resist. She was humorous at the same time, and Inia wished they could spend more nights like this one. Just the two of them, talking.

"I'm very thankful for your help and time, sister. Please, let me know if there is anything I can do for you”, she said with her warm, soft voice and that nice smile. She stood up and reached for Inia’s face to kiss her.

Inia flinched back.

But too slow.

She could feel a finger, just the tip of it, touching her face however lightly.

But it was enough.

She could see that much in the frozen smile, the stare. Heard it in the gasp.

“So it’s true”, Tiyamike whispered, clasping a hand on her mouth.

Inia stared to the ground, and shielded her face with her hands, very careful not to touch it. She could feel it burning all the same.

“Out”, she whispered.

“Why did no one…”

“Out!”, she said again, louder this time.

“Dear, I’m sure we can do something about -”

“GET OUT OF HERE!” Inia screamed.

She could still feel Tiyamike’s eyes on her. Puzzled, hurt. Inia wanted to hit her, wanted to disappear, wanted her to disappear. Wanted to disappear herself even more.

After what seemed like an eternity, Tiyamike left. She hadn’t said anything else.

Inia stormed out the alcove and down the corridor. No one was there, thankfully. In her chambers, Etenesh waited. It was the next morning, after all. She, too, drew a breath when she saw Inia's face.

"Don't look at me!" Inia cried. "Get me out of this dress and then leave!"

Etenesh knew better than to disobey. She helped Inia out of the dress and tried to clean her mistress's face. Only to get her hand smacked away and ordered to leave.

She left without a word.

The mirror was still uncovered when Inia was finally alone. She sat on her bed in white linen undergarments and shivered.

She held herself to not fall apart.

Her cracked skin ready to break into tiny pieces at any moment. It didn't help.

The pressure became too much. Behind her eyes, her skin. She clawed into her face, wishing to peel it off.

Then she caught her reflection in the mirror.

Three long, big, red scars sullied her face. One began at her chin, ran over her mouth, and then, left to the nose the knife had been tilted and guided along her upper cheekbone. It had stopped next to her left ear. The second one cut through her forehead and darted toward her right eyebrow. The last one started at her collarbone, over her neck, and ended close to her right eye.

She laughed and cried. Still clawing, scratching.

She heard them whisper in her head, all the things they said. What had happened to her that night. Why the gods allowed that. If her parents didn't love her to not make an exception. How she could dare to smile again, after what happened.

She pressed her hands on her ears and rocked back and forth. She mumbled incomprehensible gibberish, then she sang, then she cried. All to drown the voices out.

And after pain and grieve came anger. It was always the same. Like a hot flame creature that was determined to leave nothing in its wake but ashes.

Later, when she woke up on the floor, she remembered hurling a vase against the mirror until both broke.

She did not remember tearing her wardrobe apart, ripping off flowers, throwing paintings from the wall. Shards and splinters had punctuated her arms and hands, her shins. Her knees were bloody, so were her undergarments.

Etenesh stood above her, and she had veiled Inia's face while her mistress had been asleep. Now, she guided her out of the mess, and bathed her, took care of the scratches and smaller cuts with ointments. Bigger bruises with balm. She carefully tracked and removed every splinter from Inia’s body, and bandaged her knees.

She made her eat a bowl of soup, drink a lot of water.

Only then, did she lead Inia back to her room. The room was fixed; as if nothing had happened.

Only the vase was gone, Inia noticed. Eventually, she would run out of things to throw. There were fewer every time.

She allowed Etenesh to tuck her in and drank the tea her handmaiden gave her. It tasted awful but it would let her sleep.

"Etenesh?", she said. She sounded sick, small. She had no strength left to bother. Dignity had never been for her, after all.

"Yes, milady?" Etenesh answered. "Please stay. I don't want to be alone."

So Etenesh sat down on the rocking chair Inia had inherited from her grandmother. And the last thing she heard was Etenesh’s voice, singing the same lullaby, Yewubdar had taught Inia when they were children. An elven lullaby.