It was never mentioned in the novel who Evra's mother might have been, though of course she had obviously been a Dwarf. 

In Evra's memories - which were currently intermingling with my own - she was left on the Duke’s doorstep at the age of twelve, a mute and sullen girl, with only a hastily scrawled letter and her bright blue hair to speak for her. She'd spent the last five years terrorising the Duke’s home, attacking maids in fits of anger, destroying her room and everything in it, but otherwise being mostly ignored by her father and his sons. 

To be honest, most of that was news to me, since the only scene she had in the novel was a brief and violent interaction with Lily. After which, of course, she was dragged away kicking and screaming. In that same scene I recalled the line: 'Never again will she bother you, my dear.'

But, surely changing that part of the story wouldn’t be so hard, right? 

All I have to do is not attack Lily on the night before her coming-of-age party, I thought, This will be a total piece of cake. 

Yeah right. 

I couldn’t imagine changing the plot of the main storyline would be so easy. 

As far as what appeared to be my bedroom, it wasn’t what I would have called an attic. When I think of an attic, I think of old cardboard boxes stacked in the darkness like the walls of a castle. I think of a single trail of footsteps in dust as thick as snow. A quiet little reading corner, safe and secure.

But Evra’s room was well lit, spacious, and shaped like a big triangle. In the one flat wall there was a huge round window with a frame of beautiful amber stained glass. The thick navy curtain that had probably once hung in front of it was crumpled on the floor, letting in dusty beams of morning sunlight.

A large wooden four-poster bed had the linens thrown around it in heaps, a wardrobe was on its side, a woven carpet had been bunched up as though it had been kicked across the room, and the contents of a simple vanity - its mirror recently shattered - were scattered on the floor.

I took a deep breath in, and let it out all at once, aggravated. 

Then, I started cleaning. 

Maybe it was symptomatic of me reading way too much fantasy, but I wrapped my head around the fact that I was inside a novel pretty quickly. I fell asleep reading it, and poof, here I was. 

What I didn't know, as I crouched down and braced myself against the fallen wardrobe, was what time in the story I’d arrived. My next point of order after cleaning my room was to figure out when in the story I was and make a plan from there.

The wardrobe was taller than me at its full length, and made of wood. It was a beautiful thing with decorative flowers carved into the doors. I expected it to be very heavy, but I was sure no one else in the house would help me right it, so I planted my feet, grabbed it firmly, and heaved it up from the floor. 

It easily moved. As though I were lifting something flimsy from IKEA, and not a heavy, hand-crafted piece of wooden furniture. 

After carefully setting it back on its feet, I looked down at my hands, shocked. This body, Evra’s body, was strong. Way stronger than I expected. But I couldn’t feel any muscles on my arms, or in my core. This wasn’t the body of someone who - like a prison inmate - was working out, lifting weights every day because they had nothing else to do. 

In fact, even though I had easily lifted the wardrobe, I realised I was a little out of breath and had to sit down on the edge of the bed to rest. 

So, it was just an inherent, natural strength. Dwarvish strength. But my stamina was terrible. 

As I was catching my breath and surveying the rest of the room, I noticed something sticking out from underneath a pile of clothes that must have tumbled out of the wardrobe when it fell. I crouched down and pulled it free. 

It was a small, soft-bound book. The cover was stamped leather, and though the title had faded with age there were flowers and mushrooms painted in coloured ink on the front. It was a beautiful little thing, clearly hand-made, but before I could even open it the sound of footsteps and chattering voices outside my room launched me to my feet.  

For a few blissful minutes I’d forgotten that there was anyone else in this house. I'd forgotten that I would have to be Evra. Or at least, her stand-in.

I hid the book under the mattress of the bed; plenty of time for reading later. Then I smoothed out my nightgown and hair, and cleared my throat, watching the door with intent. 

Instead of a knock, someone pounded heavily on the door, and set my heart pounding in my throat. But, I gathered up all of my courage, and opened my mouth to speak: 

"Wh...Wh -" 

I strained to get the words out, and then choked on them. My throat was dry, but more than that, it was almost like my own mouth just didn't know how to form the words - even if my brain did. 

Evra was a mute, she'd barely spoken ten words since arriving at the Duke's house. Her body didn't have the muscle memory of speaking, and my vocal chords were...withered, I guess? I don't know how anatomy works. 

Thankfully that didn't seem to be an issue for the maids, who had barely even waited for an answer before bursting into the room. Five maids, carrying towels and bowls of water. 

Oh, how nice, they brought me things to wash up with...

But, why send five maids for one person? 

As soon as the question popped into my head, flashes of memories struck me like a lightning bolt between the eyes; My skin being scrubbed raw, hair being pulled, cold water thrown over my head, half a dozen hands holding me from scrambling out of a bathtub. 

I rubbed my forehead with a groan. The reasonable part of me thought: Surely not. She was a twelve year old when she arrived. No little kid likes bathing, but isn't that way too much?

The clear, genuine look of hostility on each of their faces seemed to tell me otherwise.

Cold pinpricks of fear ran up my spine.

I hate being touched. I only ever hugged my friends if they initiated it, I recoiled at every bump from a stranger. All of the courage I'd mustered fluttered away helplessly. 

"Time to wash up," the oldest of the group snapped at me. 

One of the maids set the vanity seat down somewhere behind me. Another - older with a long brown braid and a face full of freckles - approached cautiously. I backed away from her.

"W - " I desperately tried, "Wa -!" 

The cautious one, brave idiot that she was, flinched when she saw me reach out towards them and grabbed my arm in a preemptive attempt to stop whatever attack she thought was coming.

As a knee-jerk reaction, I jerked my arm away. But, with Evra's strength and the maid's unwillingness to let go, instead of getting my arm back I flung her across the room - she stumbled wildly and crashed into the vanity with a cry. 

I'm strong, I thought, Even if they won't listen to me, I can protect myself!

That's probably something Evra thought too. 

I eyed up the other maids, shifting my weight a bit, but while contemplating my options and backing away, I caught my heel on the hem of my nightgown. With an embarrassing yelp of surprise, I tripped backwards, and landed in a heap on the floor.

"W...ait...!" I wheezed, "I - I - "

There was a ringing in my ears; the maids' lips were moving, but I couldn't hear what they said. 

What exactly was happening right now? This wasn't in the book, there's no way the author would have included something like this in a silly little romantic fantasy novel! 

But just as quickly as I'd had that thought, a quote from the book floated up from my memory: 'Oh, that? Pay no mind to it. There is an unfortunate ruckus in the attic each morning. It shall quiet down again soon.'

My forced attempts at speaking and the threat of tears - burned at the back of my throat. I couldn't help but be stunned. Is this really what the author had meant? 

"St - " 

Is this what he imagined for me? For Evra? 

"St - op -" 

I threw my hands out, palms up. My chest constricted with pain, my throat felt like it would tear apart. But I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking: 

If you have the magic to pull me into this world, you bastard, whoever you are, you must have the magic to give me my voice back! So, do it! Do it! Please!

"ST - STOP!" I screamed.

And everyone went still.