Farryn's heart skipped a beat, and she looked up. It was dark, and she couldn't see the face of the figure standing over her.

"I'm-" "Who are you!?" they lunged for her, grabbing her by the arm. She kicked out, hard, and her heel connected with the person's knee. They folded, hissing at the pain, trying to keep silent.

Farryn scrambled away. "Leave me alone!" she hissed. "Or I'll scream." "You'll scream!? You're the suspicious one! Going around, asking suspicious questions-" the person stepped in front of the window, and the moonlight illuminated his face.

It was the boy, the one who had been sweeping in the kitchen. He couldn't be much older than Farryn, but he looked furious.

"I'm just curious." she said. "Curious. A strange girl wanders in, asking questions. What does that remind me of?" "Why do you care!?" she hissed at him, trying to step back. But she was cornered, and he wouldn't let her through. "Get out of my way, Iris is waiting for-" "What will she say when she learns I saw you sneaking about twice today?" Farryn kept quiet, trying to plan her escape. She could kick him again, make a run for it, but if she did he would spread stories. She needed to make him believe her.

"I'm sorry. I just... I heard about it and I was curious. It's boring here, and I thought I could make friends if I-" "You knew that girl." the boy hissed. "You knew her. Who are you? Who is she? Where is she?" "I don't know what you're talking about!" "All your questions. You think I'm stupid?" Farryn blinked at him. "Who was that blonde killer, and what do you know about her!?"

The tears came easily. "I don't know!" she sobbed. "I don't know!!" the boy was taken aback, and he took a step back, but didn't back off. "I don't believe it. And if you don't tell me everything I will march right upstairs and have you thrown in the cellar. I can do it, too."

"You can't do anything. You're a kitchen boy." "Lady Trison trusts no one. She will throw you out if she has the slightest suspicion-" "And you think she will trust you?"

The two stared at one another. He had figured it all out. Most of it, anyways. Farryn had been stupid. She'd let her shock get the best of her, spoken carelessly. "Why do you want to find her?" she asked, wiping at her tears. The boy's face hardened, and he clenched his fist. "To kill her."

— — —

Farryn held her breath. "You want to kill her?" "Yes." he hissed. "It's more than she deserves." "Do you..." she hesitated. "Do you know where she went?" He frowned. "I obviously do not. She disappeared and left no trace."

"I'll help you if you help me. I need information, I need to find her." "And why are you looking for her?" the boy asked. Farryn avoided his eyes as she said "I have my own issues to deal with with her." He was silent, and Farryn worried he wouldn't speak, but then he said "what do you want to know?"

The boy refused to join her to break into the library, where the records were kept, but he did tell her how to turn the doorknob to get the lock to fall out of place. He also told her all about the girl. "She came from the workhouse, and she was in charge of cleaning his suite. She would disappear for hours at a time, not doing her work." he said, fiddling with a hangnail. "he would disappear too. Some people say she got pregnant and he tried to get her to leave. Lord Trison... got engaged only two months before he died." "Engaged? How old was he?" "He was seventeen, almost eighteen." the boy said. "And they were going to court for four years before getting married. So we think he tried to end the relationship because of his engagement, tried to get her to leave. And she killed him."

Farryn considered it. "And... And what was her name? Where did they find him?"

"I don't know. Something... Mara? Marla? I don't know." he shook his head. "And they found him stabbed, lying in his bed. A love letter covered in blood was underneath the knife. Pinned to his chest."

She thanked him, told him she would come look for him again. But as she hurried towards the library, aware of how late she was; she was supposed to be taking a bath- she knew she wouldn't. She had no intention to kill Marla, or Mara. She had a feeling she hadn't killed anyone.

So who had?

The library was cold, and thankfully empty. It had taken a while to get the door open, but the boy's trick had worked, and Farryn realized she should have found a candle as she picked her way through the room in the dark.

She drew the curtains open, thankful that the moon was so bright. It flooded the room, and suddenly Farryn was paralyzed by another memory. Her mother, lying on her bed, still. Serval had opened the curtains for the first time, and the moon had been full, bright. But it still let the dark in, the dark that Farryn had desperately wanted to keep out. Not that it mattered. The dark had already gotten her mother, for what could be darker than death?

She tucked the curtains to the side and headed for a wooden cabinet. It looked like the one she had seen in Berkerly's, so she suspected it would contain the records.

Thankfully, it wasn't locked. The top drawer opened easily, and Farryn winced as it squeaked. The doors were thick though, she she doubted anyone would hear.

The records weren't organized how she'd expected. There were just files, with names. Not organized by their workhouse or the year they were hired. This would take a while.

She went down a few drawers, and eventually found the N to M drawer. The boy hadn't known what Liviana's new name was, so she took out the first M name and began reading

Brown hair. Not her. Firanam Workhouse. Not her. The minutes turned into hours as Farryn pulled out file after file, reading the details in the sparse light.

She managed to narrow it down to three girls. Marla, blonde, age 17. Farryn suspected the workhouse might have lied about her age. Madelyn, aged 15, hired a year and two months ago. And Mara, also 15, hired around the same time.

One of the girls had "FIRED" on her file, but Farryn didn't know if this meant actually fired, or if this was the girl she was looking for. She tucked the paper from the three files into her skirt, leaving the paper folder itself, and rose, stretching and massaging her aching neck. It was still dark outside, so she returned everything to normal; pulled the curtains close again, shut the drawers- and hurried down to her room.

Iris had left it unlocked, with a note about "not wasting her time". Farryn sighed, relieved. She wouldn't be locked in tonight. She just might get some sleep.

The next morning, Farryn got more than an earful from Iris. She didn't mind, though . Iris was never mean, never malicious, never violent. She had reasonable expectations. Unfortunately, they weren't her priority.

She would stay till her first paycheck, and then she would take Luli and disappear. She would get the boy to confirm Liviana's new name, and then she would go to the constable and get information on the case. She'd figure it out. She had to.

She saw Luli quickly in the kitchens when she went for the triplets' food. She was watching one of the women slicing an onion, wiping her eyes. The staff seemed kind, and they seemed to like her. Farryn was relieved. She felt a bit guilty about making her work, so she was glad it wasn't a bad experience.

After putting the triplets down for a nap, Iris let Farryn leave. "I need a nap and I need you not hovering above them, or you'll wake them." Farryn was more than glad to oblige.

She returned to the kitchen, where they were preparing lunch. As she stepped in a man shove a bowl of peppers into her hands. "Take out the seeds and slice these." he said. Farryn didn't even have a chance to protest before he shoved a knife in her hand and moved on.

I guess I work in the kitchen now.

She had gotten good at cooking at Serval's manor. Never good enough for Serval, of course, but good enough. She had sliced and diced the pepper in no time, and she was passed another bowl to de-skin beans.

"What are you doing here?" it was the boy from the night before. he set down his own bowl of beans. "Working." she said. His eyebrow raised. In the light of day, Farryn observed him. He was shorter than her, with a shaved head. A scar ran from his right ear all the way up his head.

"what happened to you?" she asked, gesturing to it with her knife. He frowned. "I was stabbed." "Oh." "What happened to you?" he asked, gesturing to the hand she had pointed with. There was a puckered scar on the back of her palm. "I was shot." she said. She turned away, focused on her work again.

She'd forgotten about that scar. Serval had owned a little firearm. It hadn't been powerful; it was a novelty gift from her husband. Nothing like the new firearms they were making nowadays. She had shot at Farryn, and the bullet had just nicked her. It was a miracle Farryn still had her hand. It was a miracle Serval had only taken one shot. She had stopped, frozen. Sometimes her own cruelty frightened her.

That was the day Farryn had began planning her escape. How old had she been?? Ten? Twelve? She'd walked and walked and walked for hours, into town. Reported her aunt. The Constable had seized Serval's gun. A little victory, Farryn had thought. She thought she was safe.

Safe. She was not. Serval made sure she paid for it.

"Did you find the-" "Yes." Farryn said silently. "I need you to confirm the names and descriptions. I'll meet you here tonight."

He nodded, and went back to his own work. How was Farryn going to lose him? One of the cooks yelled for the beans and he quickly took his bowl towards her, leaving Farryn alone with her thoughts.