“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Lady Ella unexpectedly threw her arms around Linh and Gretta, making Linh spasm in pain. She’d be straightening out the crumples in her neck for days. Urgh. “You won’t regret it! I’ll be the best student you ever had!”

“The only student I’ll ever have,” Gretta grumbles. “Get off! As much as I adore hugs, you’re hurting Miss Page!”

“Ah!” Lady Ella jumped away. “I’m so sorry!” Her hands flew to Linh’s accordion-like neck. “Let me—”

“I think you’ve caused enough trouble, Lady Ella,” Seymour cut in. “Your help might crumple her further.”

[It’s fine,] Linh put her hands up miserably. [I’ll fix it.]

“I really am sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Is there anything I can do? Should I buy more paper? Do you need tea? Do you drink tea?”

[Lady Ella, I will fine, I just need to sit down and straighten out my neck for a few hours…]

“Please,” the Lady took her hand, “call me Ella.”

Her stare was so earnest that Linh could practically feel the ink on her face exploding from Ella’s overwhelmingly honest eyes.

“…Is it painful for you?” Gretta asked quietly.

Suddenly, everyone stared at Linh intently for her answer. Linh’s cheeks creased slightly in a droop from the attention.

[…No,] she lied, her face twisting sideways as she did so.

“Yes, it does,” Seymour hissed, “my cousin just doesn’t parrot it to everyone she meets.”

“Well that won’t do!” Gretta marched over to Linh and made her sit down. “Wait here, I’ll fix up something to help you.”

Quickly, Linh shook her head. [No need!] Sure, Linh was here to see if it was possible to cure herself without paying Quang, but she didn’t want to get mixed up in any witching spells she didn’t understand.

Gretta scoffed. “I won’t curse you of all people, Miss Page! You’re my fellow assistant! As I said, most unmentionables are caused by the untrained. Hardly any witch creates unmentionables, it’s a terrible fate that speaks ill of the witch.”

“Linh wasn’t cursed by an untrained!” Seymour snapped.

Gretta spun back and glared at him. “Then that magic-user, witch or not, untrained or not, is no better than the scum beneath your shoes. Now, stand aside, I need some sunlight for this charm to work and you’re in my way.”

Seymour looked like he wanted to argue, but his resolve seemed to shrink, and he retreated to the corner to brood.

Gretta quickly pulled out a glowing blue stone and held it in the sunlight. Then she wrapped a few strange plants around the stone and put it into a tiny bag weaved into a thread necklace. She grinned and held out her charm.

“Here you are, free of charge for helping me last night, a charm to keep you safe from future tears, creases, spills, and various other elements harmful to paper! Within reason. A fire will still kill you, of course, but no longer will you need fear a puddle on the street!”

Something twisted in Linh’s throat. She wondered if all the ink in her body was welling up by her eyes.

[I can’t accept this.] She thought of Quang, happily congratulating her for writing her first novel, only to turn around and curse her. What was the catch?

But Gretta pressed the necklace into Linh’s hands and curled her fingers around Linh’s wrists. “As a thank you, for sharing your story.”

Oh.

“Go on,” Gretta coaxed her.

Shaking, Linh took the necklace and put it over her head. Soft warmth seemed to envelope her body and when Linh stood, her feet were no longer damp and weak but sturdy. She moved her limbs back and forth in awe.

“Test it out,” Gretta conjured up a small basin of water, “dip your foot in.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Seymour blanched.

“I swear on my soul.”

“Linh,” Seymour stepped forward, “you don’t have to do this.”

No, she didn’t. But Gretta made this to help her… and no one, besides Marie, had ever bothered to make accommodations for Linh’s body before. No one had tried to make it better. Quang had fled, disappearing to a private Practitioner temple in the city, Seymour had buried himself in cleric studies until he quit the academy. Linh’s ex-friends avoided her.

Every day, Linh carried around extra pages and bandages to wrap around her limbs. She carried around white paint to blank out the dirt that stained her. She hid in the back of the bar when customers grew too rowdy.

Linh shook her head.

[I’m tired of being afraid, Seymour.]

Before he could stop her, she dipped her foot in.

When Linh stepped out, her feet were still paper but still dry. Seymour’s jaw went slack and Gretta grinned proudly.

This time, ink tears really did run down Linh’s face.

“…Wow,” Ella said in reverence. “When can I learn to do that?”