The Amicus could see instantly that the girl was sick. She was curled up around herself with her stick-like arms wrapped around her knees and her filthy blonde hair spread like limp weeds around her. Oddly, the actual sniffing through her nose was the only sound she made, though her face was scrunched up in outright sobs.
“What’s wrong with her?” the Amicus demanded, not looking away from the sniffler.
The woman shifted uncomfortably, using the wall to help herself half rise to one knee, though the child would significantly reduce her chances of running if that’s what she intended.
“Mute.”
The Amicus flinched.
“And?”
“And… some sort of infection?” The woman’s voice grew even more nervous, her hands shaking in her hold around her daughter.
Finally, the Amicus looked back at the woman. She didn’t think it was possible, not with her back to the wall, but the woman managed to shrink away even more. The Amicus clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. With deliberate, slow movements, she took a step back, unblocking the alley entrance.
“If you go to Warren Square, there’ll be a soup kitchen at dusk.”
“Soup kitchen?”
The Amicus jerked her chin over her shoulder. “Free food.”
There’ll be more there, specifically offers for employment, but the mention of free food was enough to make the woman’s eyes light up with greed and desperation. However, years of being beaten down didn’t go away just because a morsel was dangled in front of her.
“Why?” she asked cautiously.
The Amicus shrugged. “They’ll explain there.”
After a moment of hesitation, the woman struggled all the way to her feet. Being very careful not to turn her back to the scary intruder, the woman her child close and crept around the Amicus, then fled the instant she exited the alley.
For a long second, the Amicus didn’t move. Then, with a sigh, she strode to the sniffler and dropped to one knee.
She thought about saying, ‘Hello’ or something else that might be reassuring. But why bother? The girl, who was somewhere in her teens, was too sick to really care about anything but her own discomfort. And if she weren’t ill, she would have had the urge to run no matter what the Amicus said.
So the Amicus didn’t say anything as she carried the emaciated girl from the alley, ignoring the stares as she marched back home.
***
Present: 20 Years Old
She woke up thinking about him, laying in bed and unwilling to move her heavy limbs.
Mister Eblin, whose face she hadn't gotten a proper look at but whose cheeky smile had been noticeable and present even in his voice.
Why had she saved him?
She groaned and stretched, turning over to hide her sandpapered eyes in her pillow.
Anyone who dared to mess with the criminal syndicates was doomed. Eventually. She had no illusions that a person would change their lifestyle because of one scary experience, especially if they were treating it like a joke. That meant she only delayed his chosen fate.
But this wasn't the first time she's stepped in when she probably shouldn't have.
She just didn't understand herself.
Why bother?
The door opened quietly, and the Amicus was aware of movement in her little room, but didn’t turn over or raise her head.
Despite going straight to bed when she got home, full sleep had lingered just out of reach. Even a pigeon cooing outside her window had been enough to bring her into wakefulness. With her thoughts whirling without permission, she was pretty much guaranteed no more sleep anyway.
After a moment of listening to rustles, a gentle touch prodded her shoulder and she cranked open an eyelid.
The girl was beautiful.
With long, ash blonde hair pulled back in a half-bun and striking blue gray eyes, physically the girl was the epitome of a princess in everyone’s idea of a fairy tale.
The illusion shattered as she moved her hands swiftly in a dance that the Amicus had spent months meticulously learning to understand.
“Are you alright? You look pale.”
The Amicus shrugged and reluctantly sat up, stretching as she slung her feet over the side of the bed. “I’m fine.”
“Liar,” her friend’s hands accused.
“Fine, I’m a liar.” The Amicus stretched again and groaned. “I just had a long night.”
“You always have a long night. What this time? Did you beat thugs up at the tavern again?”
Despite herself, the Amicus grinned and gently pulled Chloe down onto the bed next to her, then proceeded to ruffle her hair. Chloe wrinkled her forehead and pinched her lips together as she stood back up.
“Stop. I’m not a child.”
“Seventeen is hardly an adult.”
Chloe rolled her eyes and turned with a huff. She paused at the door, reluctantly turning to face the Amicus again so she could sign to her. “I’m getting lunch. Did you want to walk with me to work?”
“I have to talk to the master first.”
“Hurry. I’ll grab you something.”
Then Chloe was gone.
For an instant, the Amicus stayed where she was, staring at the door with a grimace. Then, reluctantly, she stood up.
Might as well get it over with.
She preferred seeing the master in the late evening, when avoiding the servants wasn’t so difficult. Even though they were used to her now—sliding to the other side of the hallway instead of freezing or staring fixedly at the floor as she passed—it was still discomfiting to run into them.
When she reached her destination, she stood outside the door and peeked in through the crack, watching the person working at a desk.
The study belonged to the master of the manor, Lord Loraven Ma’Shite.
Head of House Ma’Shite, he was the only elf nobility in the city and was strange in many ways—including the baffling decision to dig the Amicus out of her grave (literally) and take her into his home.
Ma’Shite wasn’t the only elf she’d ever encountered. He was just the first one not brandishing a weapon in her face. And there was something endearing in the way he bowed his silvered hair over a stack of documents with his forehead pinched.
“I hear you out there,” he said without looking up. She flinched. “Come in.”
Reluctantly, shoulders curling, she crept into the room, leaving the door open at its usual crack before standing in front of his desk. He glanced up, and she dropped her eyes to the ground.
Ma’Shite didn't waste any time with greetings.
“I see you're still alive. Do you know how worried I was last night?”
She shrugged, still studying her toes like a chastised child. Of course she knew. It was nonsense, but she knew he was worried. It was why she was here instead of with Chloe.
“If it weren’t a Cleansing night, I would’ve sent someone out to get you.”
“The dogs can't hurt me, Master.”
Her voice was barely audible. Now she was wiggling her toes and trying not to rock.
“And if you had hurt someone?”
She didn't answer. She hadn't attacked anyone! Rather, she'd fallen into a numb melancholy. Her stomach tightened. She really didn't want to do this again.
He sighed and put down the current piece of paper he’d been scanning to lean back, folding his hands in his lap. “Amicus—” He paused and sighed again. “Did you do your reading?”
She let out a relieved sigh and closed her eyes briefly. So he wasn't going to pursue the argument that led to her departure the night before. Thank Tanya's god!
“Yes, sir.”
“Chapter Twelve?”
“The whole book, sir.”
He blinked. “All of it? And the assignment?”
She shrugged. “You always want me to do the same things for each chapter. Do you want my notebook?”
The elf half sighed, half laughed. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re unmotivated or just lacking direction. Yes, bring me your notebook and Emperor Callun’s Politics. While you’re at it, you can choose the next book.”
This time she glanced up, her gaze flat. “I’ll read whatever you wish me to.”
“I wish you to choose.”
She looked down and didn’t answer.
Shaking his head, he correctly interpreted her refusal and stood up. Without a word, he browsed through the books in his study. The bookcase was monstrous, covering every inch of one wall, and it took him some time to work his way from shelf to shelf. Meanwhile, the Amicus shifted uncomfortably, her mind going back to Eblin and the dark shed.
He never would have asked to meet her again if he’d actually seen her face.
Unconsciously, she again touched the scarification. Each bump had been painful to get. Each one had brought her closer to her empty freedom.
“Here.”
When she looked up again, it was to see Ma’Shite putting a large tome on the desk. This one was nearly twice the thickness of the last book, measuring at about a finger wide. There must’ve been at least 700 pages.
“The poetry and essays of Michael Dowe,” Ma’Shite said dryly. “Do the regular exercises for each piece and essay.”
“Yes, sir.”
She stepped forward for the book and happened to glance at the top sheet of the report he'd been reading. Instead of picking up the book, she picked up the paper. Ma’Shite didn’t stop her, waiting to see her reaction as she read through the details.
He was pleased to see her apathetic expression momentarily harden into anger.
With a slap, she put the sheet back onto its pile.
“They want you to close the orphanage,” she said bluntly. “That’s what all that drivel means.”
“Something you wouldn’t have understood if not for these books and exercises,” he replied with a small smile.
The Amicus huffed. What nonsense compared to the issue.
“What’re you going to do about it?”
He shrugged. “It's already done. The Emperor has been approving new laws and resurrecting old ones. It shouldn’t be hard to fight this case, too.”
“You do know it’s the Regent behind it?”
Ma’Shite chuckled and actually had the nerve to reach across the desk to pat her head. She didn’t miss that he hesitated a split second before doing so, as though sensing if it was safe or not.
A part of her wanted to jerk away.
The other part struggled not to melt like a placated puppy.
“Don't you have a shift coming up? Off with you. I want a progress report on your homework in three days. And don't forget to bring me your notebook.”
With another angry scowl at the report, she picked up the new book and left.
For a second, Ma’Shite looked after her. He waited only for her to vanish before fatherly concern creased his brow.
The Amicus felt that there was one good thing about her existence. Whenever Chloe needed to go out, it was rare for anyone to pay too much attention to her—and thereby open opportunities for realizing she was mute—because they were too busy trying to keep the scary amicus in a good mood.
However, at the orphanage it was different.
As though the children had been lingering in the courtyard expressly to keep an eye out for her, they pounced the instant Chloe stepped inside. They barely glanced at the Amicus, having determined a long time ago that this disfigured woman wasn’t the threat the adults thought she was.
That downgraded her from something scary to something of no interest.
That was fine with her.
While five children dragged Chloe away, all of them trying to talk over each other to get the girl’s attention, the Amicus climbed the nearest steps to the walltop.
This was her post.
Everyone left her alone as the afternoon melted into evening. Lights came on in the big building as the children were eventually called in to dinner, trooping inside with their adult caretakers.
Their absence made the yard depressingly quiet.
Sitting on the wall, back to the city, the Amicus pulled up a knee so she could rest her chin on something. It constricted her breathing a little, but that was fine.
Eblin.
Just thinking his name revived the thrill of the night before, and she didn’t notice a small smile quirk at her lips. What would it be like if everyone treated her like she was normal? If she were normal, she wouldn’t have stupid arguments with the master or spend most of her days wishing to hide her face.
She could do normal things… like meeting a flirtatious man at a tavern.
Something, a half-remembered something, flitted at the back of her mind. Dancing, singing, a woman, who looked like her, teasingly pushing away a man in the middle of a party—
The Amicus wrinkled her forehead, a headache starting behind her eyes.

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