12 years later…

Riyah wrapped her cloak tightly around her as she ducked down a dark alley. She blanched as a rat skittered across her path. The ground was uneven and covered in mushy litter and mud from the recent rain. She wished she could use a more orthodox entry but secrecy was a must. But why couldn’t it be somewhere quaint like behind the tea shop where the most wonderful aromas invaded the air around it? Or why couldn’t she use the patron entrance through the bakery? Instead, she was forced to smell garbage and sewage. The alley came to a dead end. She looked over her shoulder. She wasn’t being followed right? Long shadows covered the alley, but none belonged to a living soul. She was alone. Good. She walked over to a stack of wooden barrels. There was a small opening just big enough for a person to squeeze through to the other side. Behind the barrels was an old wooden door. She opened the door and walked into an old room filled with nothing but dust and rat droppings. Riyah wrinkled her nose as she fought back a sneeze.

“With eyes that see all and wings that fly high,” Riyah recited, “A voice only to question and never to answer. The wise never speak and the stupid stay silent.” She waited impatiently. She hated this room. It was too dark. She hadn’t been scared of the dark when she was younger. She wondered why that had changed now that she was an adult. Usually, it was the other way around.

“Who calls upon?” a low voice filled the room.

“It is I, Myosotis,” Riyah answered, “Daughter of the owl.” Riyah waited again for what seemed like forever. Finally, the wall in front of her slid open revealing a brightly lit hallway, lined with flowered wallpaper and worn carpet. Riyah stepped through the secret door and it immediately slid close behind her. She snatched up her skirts so they weren’t caught in the door. The hallway was empty and quiet. She took a deep breath and smoothed her hand over her dress. She only hoped no dust clung to its hem. It took a lot for her to get ahold of this dress.

She walked down the garish hallway until she reached another door. A simple door this time that she easily opened herself. It opened out into the gallery. The gallery was the common area of an information guild called the Faith of the Owls. It turned out people paid quite handsomely for secrets and information and that’s what the guild offered for outrageous sums. The guild consisted of mercenaries, criminals, spies, government officials, and even a handful of assassins.

The room was filled with burly or crafty-looking men and a few sultry or demure women. The room almost looked like a seedy bar. To the left was a bar stocked with all kinds of alcohol. The rest of the room was littered with tables and chairs that were filled with people discussing plans or playing cards. In the far corner, there was ever a pool table though it wasn’t currently being used for the pool but rather a tired man’s nap spot.

As the door closed behind her, all stopped and stared at Riyah. This was nothing new. Every time Riyah entered she got stares. Probably people wondering why a low-caste noble woman was there. She had neither money nor power to buy their services. She clearly couldn’t even afford a dress from the current season.

A man only known as Snowy walked up to her. He was a large man with a hideous scar marring half his face. He was missing an eye and wore no eye patch sighting that he liked making people look at it and feel uncomfortable. The hair on his head and his full beard were stark white, which Riyah assumed was how he got his name.

Snowy glared as he towered over her.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this,” he questioned. His voice was more like a dog’s growl.

“I’m here to see Dione,” Riyah said flatly. Snowy’s mouth dropped open in shock, but he quickly schooled his features again.

“How do you know that name, girl,” he asked in an almost threatening manner. The room grew quiet around them as all attention was on the girl who dared to speak the name of the One Who Sees All.

“Snowy,” Riyah said. She reached up to the man who was practically snarling at her. She placed a hand on his scarred cheek.

“It is me, dear friend,” she said as she looked into the giant’s one good eye, “It’s Riyah.” He stared at her for a moment with his eyes squinted. The room was so quiet they could hear the rats scurrying about in the walls. Finally, Snowy’s eye widened and his pupil dilated.

“Myosotis!” he boomed. He swept her up in a hug. Riyah giggled and suddenly the gallery lost interest. The noise and conversations started up again.

“You must have been gone for quite some time,” Snowy said as he set her down on her feet, “It took me a moment to remember you.” He smiled at her guiltily.

As the years went by Riyah learned more about her curse and just what the witch meant to be one of the forgotten. The closer she was to a person the harder she was to forget about. It was why Aunt Beatrice always had a hard time remembering her name. She could only recall the death of her brother, Riyah’s father, and that she was the legal guardian of his child because of it. The twins never forgot her name as the three grew up but instead forgot details of their time together. They often wouldn’t believe her when she told them that she had been right next to them during their adventures in the forest or gardens.

Riyah had worked hard to carve out a place for herself in Snowy’s heart but the longer she spent away from someone the harder it was for them to recall her the next time they met.

She had grown close to him over the years. He felt like a grandfather or an uncle to her. When she first met him, he terrified her with the recount of how he got his scar. It was a battle with a mountain lion. A battle in which he won. He and his scar frightened her. The next time they met he told her he got the scar while fighting in the army. The next time it was a madman with a machete. Each story he told with the intention to intimidate her but she grew less and less afraid of him. By the fifth time, he remarked about how such a young girl could face him with no fear in her eyes. That was the day he started to remember her. With each meeting, he remembered her more and more. Now it only took him a moment or two to recognize her.

“Yes it’s been two weeks,” Riyah answered.

“You cannot wait so long, little owlet,” Snowy lectured, “I do not wish to forget you.” Riyah smiled at him sadly. She did not have the heart to say that he already did. She had fallen sick once which kept her away from the guild for over a month. When she came back, Dione was the only person who could remember anything about her. She had to reintroduce herself to everyone, including Snowy.

“My aunt held a party to celebrate Arthur and Oliver going off to work in the capital for his highness the crown prince. I wasn’t able to sneak away.” Snowy frowned.

“When will you leave that place,” he questioned, “I’ve told you time and again that you can come live with old Snowy.” Riyah smiled at him.

“You are a dear friend, but you know I need to build a life for myself,” she replied. In truth, she would have accepted Snowy’s offer if it wasn’t for Julias. Julias always had an eye on her. Even while in the capital he still somehow received reports about her daily life. She didn’t understand why he cared about what she was doing so much when no one else in their family did. If he found out she had left the mansion he would drag her back. He always told her that Rembrooke was her home. But those pretty words never sounded kind. They sounded like a life sentence. She needed to earn enough money so that when she left she would never be found.

“Where is Dione?” Riyah asked.

“In her office where else,” Snowy rolled his eye, “The woman will work herself into an early grave. Go on up. I’ll bring you some tea and snacks.” Riyah smiled at him before she headed toward the staircase at the back of the room. She felt eyes follow her as she went. It was uneasy being an unfamiliar face in a room of spies. She could feel the hostility rolling off them. The only thing that kept anyone from questioning her further was her interaction with Snowy. Should anyone get near her Snowy would put them into the ground. It was why she befriended the giant in the first place. He was sweet to her but everyone in the guild knew that it would be nearly impossible to win a fight against him. It had to drive everyone mad with curiosity as to how an unrecognizable girl had the trust of the guild’s most dangerous man. But their curiosity would fade as soon as she climbed the steps. Out of sight out of mind.

Riyah climbed up three flights of stairs. Dione’s office was on the top floor of the building. She called it her nest. She enjoyed being able to look out the window and see the greater part of Port Galia. She took note of all the ships that came and went from the docks. There were a lot of secrets about the comings and goings of people and items that crossed the sea. Riyah knocked on the office door.

“Who is it?” a voice called out.

“Myosotis,” Riyah answered.

“Come in,” a reply rang out. Riyah opened the door just wide enough for her to slip in and close it behind her, a habit she had picked up over the years of sneaking in and out of places quietly. Dione was standing by the window as Riyah could have predicted. She wore tan pants, a cream blouse, a green tweed vest, and brown leather boots. Her dark brown hair was knotted into a messy bun held in place by a sharpened pencil. She didn’t look like a typical woman. Riyah had never seen her wear a dress in the ten years she’d known her nor could she imagine her in one. But Snowy had told her stories of when Dione was much younger. She started out as a black widow. A woman who would seduce men into her bed and stain the sheets red with the men’s blood. She earned enough money to retire after only a few years so she began working for Faith of the Owls. Eventually, the leader took interest in her and she became his right hand until one day he passed the title to her.

Riyah was surprised at Dione’s history at first, but she was a handsome woman. Riyah had no doubt that she could lead any man to their doom using her beauty. Even now with grey streaks in her hair and soft wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, she could still doom a shallow man.

“Anything interesting?” Riyah came to stand next to her at the window. There were a few smaller boats belonging to fishermen probably and one large ship. The large ship seemed to be loading up with sizable boxes carried by three or four men each.

“No,” Dione sighed, “Those boxes are filled with marble dog statues.”

“Dog statues?” Riyah repeated.

“The king of Qesan commissioned about two hundred of them to be placed around his palace for his new queen. She loves dogs.” That seemed rather silly to Riyah but who was she to judge a king? Dione turned to look at Riyah. She started at the hem of Riyah’s skirt and traced her up to the top of her head.

“What year is this dress from?” Dione asked. Riyah sighed. The dress was a faded yellow with an impossible amount of ruffles covering the skirt. It had a scooped neckline which could have been considered fashionable if it weren’t for the giant bow sitting at the center. The sleeves were long and puffy and made of a different material so the fabric faded to a different color of yellow than the rest of the dress. The entire monstrosity caused an awful feeling of itchiness. Regardless the gown was still considered something a high noble would wear even if it was a few decades old.

“My aunt is larger than me. I had to find a dress from when she was a comparable size.”

“And when was that? Thirty years ago?” Dione tutted, “Well it shouldn’t matter. No one will remember your fashion faux pas. Luckily you don’t have a reputation to damage.” Riyah shrugged. Luckily the chain was long enough to hide the sapphire bauble that hung around her neck under the atrocious bow. The necklace definitely didn’t match the dress but Riyah felt intense anxiety every time she took it off. No one knew this of course. Only Dione and Snowy were aware of her curse but no one was aware that she carried a piece of the witch wherever she went. She was sure Dione suspected something. She had seen her looking at it suspiciously once or twice when it slipped out from underneath her clothes but she never asked about it which was strange because she knew there was no reason for Riyah to have something so expensive no matter how dingy the chain looked.

Dione turned away from the window and walked over to a large mahogany desk. It was covered in papers, documents, maps, and books. Riyah settled into the old sofa across from the desk. There was another knock on the door, but it opened before Dione could answer. Snowy walked in with a tray of tea and cookies. He set it on the coffee table in front of Riyah and poured her a cup. The teacup looked tiny in his large hands but he handled it gracefully. Riyah took it from him and breathed in the sweet aroma. Snowy made the best honey mint tea.

“What is she looking for?” Snowy asked as he slipped a cookie onto a plate and handed it to Riyah.

“Probably the details of the ball I’m supposed to attend tonight,” Riyah suggested as she took a bite. She held back a cough. Snowy made lovely tea, but his baking left much to be desired.

“You’d find it if you let me in here to organize for you,” Snowy lectured. He hovered over Dione and scanned the desk. Riyah discreetly spat out the burnt cookie.

“I don’t like other people touching the papers on my desk. I’ll find it,” Dione snapped, “And Riyah I sure hope you have better table manners at the ball.” Riyah froze. How did Dione see her while she was staring so hard at her desk?

“Here it is,” the woman said, snatching up a piece of paper. Snowy jumped back, the paper nearly slapping him in the face. Dione sent him an apologetic smile before picking up a pair of glasses and peering down at the paper.

“Derek Hughes, Viscount Augustine Hughes’ son, and heir, is rumored to have a peculiar perversion,” Dione stated.

“What kind of perversion?” Riyah questioned as she took another sip of tea to wash the taste left behind by the unsavory cookie.

“That’s your job to find out, my dear,” Dione stated, “He and his fiance-” she paused to look at the paper again, “Lady Mary Mayfield will be in attendance at the ball tonight.”

“Is it a sexual perversion?” Snowy asked reading the paper over Dione’s shoulder.

“Is there any other kind?” She gave him a stern look with her piercing black eyes. Snowy took a step back.

“Riyah’s still a child,” Snowy said gruffly, “How do you suppose she finds out a man’s sexual fantasies?”

“I’m not a child,” Riyah argued, but Snowy didn’t seem to hear her.

“She doesn’t have to get in bed with the man,” Dione scoffed.

“Get in bed with him? We shouldn’t let her anywhere near him!”