Part 3

The Meaning of Family

“Please, Marcella, just let me do something, anything!” I begged the red-haired girl who stood at the prep station, pressing a wooden roller into a piece of dough. She glanced up at me, amused.

“Lyra,” She laughed. “You’re no longer a servant. I cannot allow you to do anything.”

“I could do the dishes!” I gestured toward the wash basin, a black-haired servant girl looked up at me, her hands elbow-deep in suds. “Or…or…I could cut vegetables! Please! I’m so bored!”

“Let me understand this,” Miah pushed past me, carrying a tray of rukon breasts, nearly knocking me over on her way to the brick oven on the far side of the kitchen. “you have been released from service, given free room and board, and permission to use the campus amenities as you see fit, and you are bored?”

“There is nothing for me to do,” I pouted. “Just let me chop the vegetables!”

“That bronze token you were given,” Sophia piped up from the other side of the kitchen, her voice barely audible over the sound of running water and the banging of the auxiliary oven as it crafted some culinary confection. “Why haven’t you used it?”

“I don’t even know what it is,” I reached into my dress pocket and pulled out the octagonal token; two inches in diameter, it had the emblem of Klocby on one side and the seal of Jenwise on the other. I turned it over in my hands, feeling the beveled edge.

“A general pass,” Marcella said to me. “Sheena has one, Kayla has one. Tis so you can use all of the campus amenities free of charge. Go eat something, see a show, visit the carnival, ‘tis here for another week. Above all, stop bothering me!”

The other girls giggled, some of them outright laughed. I shied away, my face nearly crimson red as I passed through the swinging door and into a small storage room containing pots and pants along with various kitchen instruments. I left that room and emerged into a hallway bustling with people. This particular kitchen was far away from the palace, perhaps a mile to the east, and as a result, the atmosphere was far more casual. The closer one got to the palace proper, the more they would begin to experience the silent reverence and the guarded corridors. The Octagon itself was widely unguarded but if you were to move up the second or third passages, you would inevitably run into a blue-uniformed guard or two. These encounters would become more frequent the closer you became. Finally, if you were to reach one of the entrances to the palace, you would be challenged, assuming you weren’t dressed in servant gray or black. Even then you could be stopped and asked to give a pass phrase which changed on a daily basis. It occured to me that I didn’t know the pass phrase at the moment and that was probably by design - it was unlikely that the High Lady wanted to see me. I took a right, walking aimlessly along the side of the corridor, feeling completely out of place amongst the nobles and commoners that made their way past me, staying the course or crossing down the branching corridors toward varied destinations. They were all very different types of people but the one thing they had in common was that they were slightly more important than the common people in Auglire either because they had business to conduct here, or they worked here. I was doing neither of these things. I had nowhere to go and nowhere to be, and it was the most frustrating feeling I’d ever experienced save for the High Lady and Balthasar keeping elements of my past concealed from me. Emitting an exasperated sigh, I pressed forward into what the servants called ‘The Glass’. They called it that because it was much like the atrium in the education wing; a glass dome, but instead of plant life, it was filled with benches and kiosks, one of which was a brass gondola with a backlit map, explaining the layout of the outlying passages and hubs. In the palace proper, one would never find something like this, given that it was designed to be obscenely confusing. I didn’t want to go anywhere, I wanted to be back where I belonged but they wouldn’t have me. Frustrated, I walked through the entrance to the glass and into a courtyard where cobblestone paths sprawled out before me in an almost nonsensical pattern, leading to different buildings and resting areas marked by wooden benches. Ahead of me I could see the central clock tower, positioned just outside of the Vice; gothic style, pointed steeple surrounded on all four sides by stone gargoyles in menacing positions. I passed by dozens of men and women in black suits and colorful dresses, each one holding a different and uninteresting conversation. They had somewhere to go. I didn’t. I was useless. The freedom that I’d yearned for had been replaced by the haunting realization that I couldn’t function unless someone was telling me what to do.

I wandered across the courtyard, barely dodging a portly man who was looking at his pocket watch, perhaps placing it in sync with the central tower. I dodged around him and pressed on toward a set of large double doors inset to a brown brick building to which was affixed a simple black plaque with ‘Vice Library’ in gold lettering. The door creaked as I passed through, emerging onto a white tile floor surrounded by eight towering pillars that reached up past the second and third floor mezzanines, supporting the ceiling high above. In the midst of them, a skylight, heavily latticed with a steel framework allowed natural light to stream down in sectioned squares, shadows passed over my body as I observed the massive rows of volume-laden shelves beyond the pillars. This, of course, was just the entrance; ahead of me was a stair, about twenty steps high and shaped in a half-oval that led to a large rectangular portal perhaps forty feet high. The words ‘Vice Central Library’ hung in hold above the door frame, and I immediately began my ascent past men and women, each looking more important than I.

The next room was not as grand as the entrance, but it was flanked on either side by spiral staircases and lifts that made an ascension to the second floor, which would connect to the mezzanine in the entryway. I had been inside this building just briefly but I’d never had time to explore. Now with nothing but time on my hands and the memories of a past life haunting me from the deepest recesses of my mind, I made the ascent up a spiral staircase and browsed the bookshelves. The library seemed to be separated into countless sections and sub-sections, from fiction, to non-fiction, para-fiction, trade, sciences, applied astrology, astrology, and dozes of other topics that I wouldn’t even be able to make sense of. I had no intention of borrowing any of the books, I really just needed something to do. So I browsed, walking through row after row, hoping to wander until I had exhausted the light and was able to return home.

During the first week, I’d spent the entire time in the new servant’s quarters, in the tiny wood-paneled room that Jen and I shared. I’d just sat there staring at the wall, wishing I could do something useful. Each time Jen had returned she’d looked more and more concerned. Eventually she’d gone to Sheena who had ordered me to do something other than stare at a wall all day.

My eyes traveled along the rows of books; words printed in gold or silver lettering on their spines. Some of them I could read immediately, others I had to sound out; it was disconcerting.

“Are you interested in the making of soap?” A feminine voice asked me. I jumped in surprise at the fact that someone was speaking to me and turned to her. It was a girl with a pale complexion, much like Jen, but with far softer features and painted red lips. Her hair was far darker than Jen’s, and hung about her shoulders, framing her face and accenting her red eyes. She was Zlitian, through and through; her light accent gave it away. Well, her complexion probably gave it away too.

“Is that…is that what it says?” I asked her nervously. She giggled and stepped toward me, I flinched a little as she reached past me and took the book from the shelf, holding it up with a grin.

“A noble profession for a woman, but not so much a hobby,” She smiled and flipped through the pages. I shuddred a little as she handed the book to me and I placed it back on the shelf.

“Truthfully,” I said. “I’m just…browsing. My sister she uh…works on the campus, I’m…well…she…”

“She wanted to get you out of her hair?” The girl suggested. I blushed, she laughed. “So then, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. She laughed.

“You…haven’t been in Auglire long, have you?” She guessed. “There is much I could show you. Come!”

Before I could object, she took my hand and practically pulled me away from the shelf. Out onto the mezzanine and down the spiral stairs, then toward the front entrance. It took a few minutes to reach it; we passed a row of wooden tables with green desk lamps attacked, and eventually walked down a long gray-ish carpet that led us to a set of double doors far larger than the ones I had entered in the first place. Then, we descended a wide set of concrete steps, landing on a cobblestone street absolutely brimming with people.

“Are…are we off the campus?” I asked her nervously.

“A little,” She shrugged. “We have to walk a little further to be really off of it.”

I lost my composure, at least inwardly. The sea of people passing around us, jostling, chattering, the vivid display of color and color, all of it pushed its way deep into my core and caused me to shudder, shake, and retreat within myself. I wanted to run, but the girl already had a hold of me and was guiding me through the crowd. She knew what she was doing, and it didn’t put my mind any more at ease. Fortunately I didn’t have time to worry as we ducked through alleys, crossed streets, and passed shouting vendors. The aroma of street food filled my nose and I felt my stomach rumble. How long had it been since I’d eaten?

As we passed a rolling cart, atop which a merchant had set up a colorful awning and background. He shouted about a miracle cure. A dog barked and ran between my feet, nearing knocking me to the ground. Finally, the girl pulled me to a nearby bench and we sat down. The crowd continued moving; I felt like a rock in the midst of an ever-moving stream.

“Are you alright?” She asked me. “You look…pale.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. I should have been used to large crowds but then it occurred to me rather suddenly that maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t spent a whole lot of time outdoors in either of my previous lives. My life as Micah was fuzzy at best, and my life as Lyra, even in Liminality was…well that was beyond fuzzy.

“Have you ever been off the campus?” She cocked her head at me. “Were you…born there?”

“Uh…kind of,” I said, still feeling panicked. “I mean…not really but I’ve been there for a time.”

In front of us, a four-wheeled cart rumbled across the cobblestones, parting the crowd and pushing more people in our direction. I winced.

“What’s your name?” She asked me, a little too quietly below the roar of the crowd.

“What?”

“Your name!” She said a little louder. “What is it that they call you?”

“I…” I started to speak but my voice was drowned out by the shouts of another man just in front of me. I cringed and then closed my mouth, feeling as if I’d been unceremoniously cut off. She looked at me, slightly concerned and then patted my hand, signaling that it was time to get off the bench. I followed her into a restaurant where we took a seat at one of the many tables, though the noise was still deafening as patrons all around us chattered about things that held little to no interest for me. She looked at me again, smiling still.

“My name is Calliope,” She told me. “And yours?”

“It’s…it’s Lyra,” I said quietly, suddenly realizing that I was too easily pulled into this situation. I recalled with some disdain how I had allowed Gabrielle to pull me away last time, even though she had done so at Sheena’s behest. Bottom line: I needed to be more assertive.

“Lyra, I like that,” She grinned and looked about, trying to wave down a waiter. They didn’t use servants past the campus, I guessed. The Rossi house by all rights should have had some but they’d opted not to, according to Sheena. She called the attention of a a girl in black who took an order for two coffees and disappeared.

“I…I don’t really have money,” I said pathetically. “I mean I- I don’t mean I’m poor, I just-”

“You’re rather adorable when you’re nervous,” She gave me a wide grin, and I returned it. “I rather like you. What is it that you do on the campus, then?”

“My…sister is the First Girl. I guess traditionally she’d be called the Housekeeper but they don’t really say that there.”

“The housekeeper?” Calliope gawked. “That’s…wow, and she is your sister?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “I…yes, she’s my sister.”

“Aye, she’s very important then!” She spoke excitedly. “I ought look into service myself, seeing as my loan was denied.”

“Loan?” I asked curiously. “A loan for what?”

“Aye, well, as a seamstress I wished to open my own shop but see, the Duchess has raised the import tariffs to a point where it is simply untenable. She treats us well, much better than I hear from Axock, but sometimes I feel she’s a tad greedy, don’t you?”

“I…don’t really have an opinion on that,” I sputtered. “I don’t know a lot about politics.”

“You ought learn,” She half lectured me; the server returned and set the coffee on the table in front of us. “Politics shape our lives in all sorts of ways, you know.”

“I…really wouldn’t know,” I muttered quietly. “I try…to stay out…of it.”

“Ah, well, your choice,” She looked at me, perhaps slightly dissapointed. “Drink your coffee would you? You ought not let it get cold!”

So we didn’t let it get cold. We drank our coffee and I listened to her prattle on about dozens of different topics. I got a few words in but for the most part I just listened, and the most amazing thing happened: I started to like her. There was something about her, the way she spoke to me, the tone of her voice, the tone of her skin, all of it came together to create a picture of perfection and by the end of the visit I was completely mesmerized.

“Are you okay?” She said suddenly, snapping me out of my stupor.

“I’m sorry?” The sounds of the restaurant suddenly filled my ears as I fully remembered where we were. Nearby, a group of men chattered about the latest market prices, a group of children chased one another through the tables, bumping into a rather disgruntled server. Somewhere near the front of the store, the sounds of an automaton band played pipe and accordion. It took me a moment to refocus on Calliope; she rested her head on her open palms and shot me a curious look.

“I said, are you okay?” She laughed a little. “You seem as if you’re somewhere else, or, well, you did.”

“I…was just wondering,” I said, looking around nervously. “Are we…is…is this a date?”

“Would you like it to be such?” She asked, still grinning.

“Well I’m…not really past the age of majority-”

“Neither am I,” she said quickly. “no, I’m eighteen years. I think a date would be ideal between us, do you not?”

“Wait,” I frowned. “You’re not past the age of majority, but you wanted to get a loan? For your business?”

“That would be part of the reason they turned me down,” She sighed. “but the tariffs are a real concern. Even after I’m one and twenty I have no idea how I’ll manage it.”

“That’s…I don’t know what to say,” I wasn’t joking, I really didn’t know what to say. “So…a date?”

“Would you like to have another one?” She smiled at me coyly. I giggled a little, my cheeks flushed.

“I… think so,” I said; I honestly didn’t know what to feel here. The feelings I was experiencing in this very moment were unlike anything I’d ever been through. Something about the tone of her voice, her confidence, I just wanted to be near her. Fortunately, she agreed.

“Then meet me tomorrow,” She said. “in the Octagon.”

“I…will try,” I said shakily. “But my sister-”

“You are a younger sister then?” She said, suddenly excited. “I am as well! We have that in common then!”

“I…guess so,” I admitted. “But it can be…difficult to make plans, because-”

“Because she could snatch you away at any moment for some inspection, or perhaps a dull, drab event that you have no interest in! Yes, this is the way for little sisters, I’m afraid, but you know that, obviously.”

“No…so much,” I said hesitantly. “It’s…I was recently adopted. I wasn’t…born into it. I’m having trouble with it.”

“Wait then,” She furrowed her brow and then broke out in a grin. “You mean to say, that you were…simply adopted into a prestigious family as a younger sibling, a sister no less, with no idea what it entailed?”

I nodded. “Yes…that…that is what happened.”

“My goodness!” Her eyes sparkled as the realization came over here. “I have two older sisters and I am accustomed to the familial traditions but you…I cannot imagine what it must be like! But, you are so lucky!”

“I don’t feel lucky sometimes,” I admitted. “It’s…overwhelming, and sometimes I find myself angry with her. Honestly, this entire thing is…strange. If this were a story, for example, I would say that the author has mental problems and snaps at the drop of a hat, then blames everyone else for their problems even though they should really blame themselves for drinking excessively and holding in all of their emotions, only to release them when the slightest thing goes wrong.”

“What?” She looked at me incredulously. I shrugged.

“What?”

“Back to…the subject…I will…take a leap of faith here,” She pressed her lips together, studying me with her bright red eyes. “Your sister is Sheena Rossi.”

“How did you know?” I looked at her, genuinely surprised. “Do you know her?”

“I do not,” She admitted, then gave me a knowing smile. “but the Rossi family is known for philanthropy, so their youngest - well, second youngest daughter, being the First Girl in the palace would fit the bill.”

“I…” I tried to think of something to say but it was clear that I was out of my depth; this girl had me figured out and I’d just met her.

“You are very lucky,” She said. “From all I have heard tell of Sheena Rossi, she means the best for you.”

“It doesn’t always feel like it,” I mumbled, looking away, toward the window. A horse-drawn carriage passed by on the street, a group of children chased it, while behind it the crowd of people closed like an ocean righting itself .

“How long?”

“For what?” I looked to her in confusion.

“How long have you been her younger sibling?”

“A few…months, I think?” I shook my head. “It’s all running together, I’m positively exhausted.”

“You ought give it time,” She said sympathetically. “it can be difficult, for me even, but they really do mean the best. Now, I suppose you should be off home, before she takes notice of your leave.”

I nodded profusely, feeling practically unable to speak, and then I allowed her to direct me back to the library. From there, I easily found my way across the campus and toward the servant quarters. The central clock read 4 PM and Sheena would be expecting me in her office, as per usual. I passed into the servant’s quarters and ascended the stairs to the second level. The renovations had been completed, and now rather than one large room for all the servants to sleep, it had been divided into three floors with thirty rooms on each. Not all of them were occupied, just as many of the beds had been unoccupied before the renovation. I walked down a sleek wood-paneled hallway adorned on each side with brass lamps every few feet. These did not use the glow-globes, but rather a system of fuel lines concealed within the walls. They flickered as I passed, and when I reached the end of the hall, I used the access staircase to ascend to Sheena’s office. She was there of course, behind her desk, nose in a pile of papers; I broke her concentration by stepping in through the back entrance. She knew it was me of course, Kayla and I were the only ones allowed to use the stair apart from her, and Kayla would be at the palace right now.

“You’re late, little sister,” She said in a tone that didn’t imply anger or a lecture, but it was a comment that would stick in my mind for days to come. “Stand there,” She waved to a spot in front of her desk, between the two chairs. I took my place and folded my hands in front of me, my shoulders tense as I had never quite gotten used to this part and the apprehension never subsided. Finally, she continued. “Tell me of your day, how did you spend it?”

“I went to the libary,” I said. “And-”

“And you bothered Marcella in the kitchen, you must find better ways to spend your time, little sister.”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I dropped my eyes to the floor and pressed my lips together, shame beginning to fill my consciousness like a glass filled with water. I could feel my cheeks burning. Sheena finally rose from the desk and motioned for me to follow her. We walked to the front of the room and stepped through a side door, into the white-tiled private washroom where she performed her own morning routines. It was a smaller space, containing a basic wash basin, a shower stall, and a vanity for all of the hygiene products she owned, many of which she never used. In front of a large oval mirror I could see various powders and serums in all different colors. Brushes sat upright in tin containers, creams in small round cannisters, dozens of things I didn’t recognize. I always felt uncomfortable in here, but she’d only made me walk in here a few times. I wondered what the occasion was today.

“Present,” She said sharply, indicating for me to stand straight and lay my hands out, palms down. I did so and she immediately took my left hand in hers, running her fingers over my nails and inspecting the skin. She then did the same with the other hand. “You have dirt under your nails. You’re not in service anymore, there’s no excuse.”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I grew even more embarrassed.

“You walked with a limp earlier, when you came into the office. Why?”

I thought about telling her that it was nothing but I’d learned my lesson early on about hiding things from her. My heart pounding, I simply told her the truth.

“I…I have a rash,” I admitted. Making that admission was difficult for me, given her general reaction every time I failed to take care of my own body. “I…it’s…the shaper, that I wear beneath my dress, it’s…rugging against my leg.”

“Why are you wearing the shaper?” She looked at me, confused. “That was given to you so that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable among the other girls. Your surgical procedure eliminated the need.”

“I…no one told me that,” I offered the explanation as a protest and it escaped my lips as a whimper as I shrank back from her.

“Alright, strip,” She ordered. I shrank back even further, my eyes wide. “Lyra, I am your sister. These things will happen between us. Remove your clothing so I may see this rash.”

I shrank back again, even furthrt this time, bumping into the wash basin. What was I afraid of? She’d seen me naked before, back in the beginning, but since then things had changed. Even in the shared room, with Jen, I’d hung a sheet even while she’d simply changed in front of me. There was something different now, and I wasn’t sure what it was. All I knew was that my heart threatened to pound out of my chest and a fear rose in me unlike anything I’d experienced recently. I shook my head, eyes wide and I expected her to react in anger, but suddenly her shoulders relaxed and her eyes softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Lyra, I will not judge you, save for the ways a sister should. In my eyes you are female, regardless of your anatomy. Do you understand?”

I nodded, finally and fully understanding the reason for my apprehension. I slowly nodded, but felt myself clutching the folds of my dress, arms folded across my chest.

“Despite your reservations, there are things that must be done. I need to inspect your rash, or we can speak with a physician. How would you rather?”

Slowly and carefully, I removed the dress and stood there holding it in front of me, dressed now only in the brassiere and shaper. Sheena carefully took the dress from me and set it on the vanity. I shivered as she took the straps of the shaper and pulled them down about my waist, pulling the thick, stretchy material down as if she were peeling an orange. Moments later, it lay about my feet and Sheena inspection the rash; I winced as she pressed the skin with her fingers. Finally, she stepped over to the vanity; I breathed a sigh of relief and then began to breathe rapidly, choking and wiping my eyes as she sorted through several items. Finally, she returned with a round container, which she held out to me.

“Twice daily,” She instructed me “And you’ll be rid of that shaping garment.”

“I…”

“Yes, Lyra?” She regarded me sternly, but still with the soft expression.

“As long as I have it I’m…I’m not really a girl, I’m just pretending.”

“Lyra!” She snapped, placing her hands on my shoulders. “You will not disrespect yourself or me in this manner! You are my younger sister and as such you are an extension of my image, just as I am an extension of my family. You will carry yourself with pride, that is the reason we hold these inspections! Am I understood?”

“I…”

“Lyra you will stop this!” She grew angry, I backpedaled into the basin again, whimpering. “You will come to understand that you are what I say you are, and I say that you are a female, regardless of your anatomy, and you are my younger sister. This cannot be negotiated, cannot be argued! If you cannot understand then I will make you understand! Get dressed!”

I used the salve as she indicated and then I slipped back into my dress, save for the shaper. Back out in the main office, she motioned for me to sit at a wooden desk, far smaller than hers. She brought me a stack of parchment and an ink pen, and set the instrument beside the stack of parchment.

“Please, She— Elder Sister, not lines, please,” I begged and whimpered. She regarded me coldly and stepped away from the desk, returning to hers.

“You will write: “I am Lyra Rossi, sister of Sheena Rossi regardless of my anatomy,” She ordered. “Write it until I finish my work.”

Sheena returned to her desk and began to work as my pen scratched against the parchment over, and over, and over. By the time she finished working, my hand was cramped and my mental exhaustion was something that I could barely come to terms with. Most of the stack was written on, and she turned it over in her hands, flipping through the pages as I sat back in the chair, thrilled to be relieved of the task.

“You handwriting begs improvement, little sister,” She chided. “We will work on it. In the meantime understand that you are my little sister and I will not have you degrade yourself. Your feelings and fears can be discussed at length, but no good can come from self-degredation.”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I whispered, once again on the verge of tears.

“It is past seven, go to the kitchen and find something to eat, then retire to your room, am I understood?”

“Yes, Elder Sister.”

In my own quiet form of rebellion, I skipped the kitchen and walked right to the dorm where Jen was already laying on her bunk, nose buried in a book. She took one look at me as I entered and sighed.

“Well?” Jen stared at me. “You’ve a thought in your head and your worry is tangible. What’s the matter?”

“Sheena,” I muttered, sitting down hard on my bunk and burying my head in my hands.

“Lyra, do straighten your skirt before you sit down like that,” She lectured me, I glared. “Is it that she’s strict, then?”

“She’s beyond strict, Jen! I can’t do anything! I-”

“She gave you free run of the campus, did she not?” Jen pointed out in a rather harsh tone. “So clearly you’ve something you can do. You’re upset she’s being a big sister. ‘Tis how things work here in this society, Lyra. You want your freedom? Wait until she’s taught you what she needs to teach you and be glad of it!”

“How then should I be glad of it?!” I demanded, shouting now. “When she humiliates me and makes me write lines like a child?! I can’t just-”

“You will be silent!” She said sitting up, suddenly angry. She slammed the book shut and sat up on the bed, climbing to her feet. I crawled back on my bunk, moving toward the wall, but she grabbed for the scruff of my dress and jerked me to my feet. I was completely shocked at just how strong she was as she dragged me from the room and through the small corridor. It was likely that everyone on the row, at least those in their rooms could hear me squealing and kicking as Jen dragged me to the stairs and dook me down to the second floor landing. We walked through the tunnel leading from the servant quarter to the Vice, and then across the courtyard. In the waning light of dusk we left the campus with me at least walking normally, though Jen’s hand was still tight around my wrist.

“Where are we going?” I whispered urgently as we pressed on down cobblestone streets, through alleys between buildings, and onward until the buildings around us ceased to be the nice, clean structures that I had become accustomed to. Suddenly, we were flanked on all sides by decrepit, decaying structures and horrific scents that I couldn’t even begin to identify. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomch as we stepped onto a busy ‘street’ that featured several run down shops and the scent of human waste runinning through the broken cobblestones. It wasn’t just the smell, or the decrepit buildings, it was the people. There was something about them that made my heart sink even further. An old man leaned against a shop wall, barely covered in his tattered rags, a bandage covering his left eye. He looked as if he hadn’t eaten in days. A woman wandered the streets reaching out, touching, talking to anyone who happened to pass by. A child lay on the walk, his leg bandaged, though you could still see the deformation - he would never walk under his own power. Jen guided me over to the boy who immediately looked to me and begged for a coin. I tensed, my jaw going stiff as I felt a sudden sense of helplessness. I looked to Jen who shot me a stern look before dropping a coin in the boy’s cup. She then dragged me away again, bringing us to a nearby alley.

“Look at it,” She said angrily. “Look at the suffering that befalls the people of your class. You had no money, no name other than the cursed Lavoric heritage which you renounced. Because of Sheena Rossi you will never want, you will never hunger, and you will never beg for your bread. All she asks in return is your respect and your obedience as she guides you on the right path? Do you take issue with that?”

“No,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut; I didn’t want to see.

“Our world is not a fair one, Lyra Rossi. There will be things that upset you, there will be things that hurt you, and this is the same for all who pass through it. But not everyone has Sheena Rossi to guide their steps. Now, let’s go back. I was just reaching the good part in my book.”