I wake to the tocking of a tall shadow in a pitch-dark corner, rhythmically breaking the murky silence. The old Elm Clock, dragged in from the hallway when I was no more than six years old.

  Thick curtains glow silver at the fringes, spilling white light across a faded carpet. It’s the only light in the room, just enough to see the fuzzy edges of my old room. Enough to see the bnkets tossed every which way, to see how my tail has scored holes through the silky sheets. Such a waste, as always.

  I should know better than this by now, but the moment I’d seen Helena off to the guest room, I’d stumbled to my own bed and fell straight into it. I couldn't do that without making sure all my scales were covered, most pces, but...

  Oh, my mother would hate me for it. Father, too. That might just be the best part.

  Crawford Manor is never silent, even in the bright, cold hours of the morning. The whisper of wind over curtains, the rhythmic brushing of enchanted brooms...

  And now, the clinking of teacups as I pour myself some tea. It's a symphony of the senses I'd heard every day for years, descending down into the lobby to find out what nonsense my parents wanted from me.

  The memories are clear as crystal. She'd be here, ready to send me off to a tutor, or give me a disappointed frown for something I'd done the day before.

  Until they weren't there anymore, and my chair repced her old favorite. I burned hers after the reading of my parents' wills, and finding out what they'd pnned for me.

  I take a sip and close my eyes, sinking into the plush chair. "Gods," I groan to the empty room. "She'd hate this tea. Too floral. Good."

  "Hmmm?"

  A sleepy voice drifts down from above, and I draw myself out of my thoughts.

  "Ah, you're up," I smile lightly, jerking my chin in Helena's direction. She’s coming down the stairs to the lobby in a cozy-looking blouse and trousers, though I’ve no idea where they came from. "Hope the house didn't bother you in the night."

  "I am, and ah, I did sleep well." Helena says, nodding slowly. She gives me a lopsided smile, running a hand through her rather messy looking hair. "The... um, the Manor actually woke me up by opening the curtains, but I don't mind."

  She yawns, stretching her arms out. “N-not much, I mean."

  I gesture to the table in front of me, gently tapping a cw against the teapot. "I don't really do breakfast, sorry, but we can pick it up in town. Tea?"

  She slumps into the chair across from me, reaching straight for the teapot. "Perfect. You're too kind. No need to buy me breakfast, really!”

  Doing my best to ignore poor tea etiquette, I take a long sip of tea, lifting up my tail and bringing it around to my p. Her eyes zily flick down to my hands, to my bckened cws and the scales peeking out of my robe.

  "I crashed into you, probably bruised something, and you asked for help." I shrug, doing my best to remain casual. A tug of my magic makes my cws fade away, before I can damage something expensive. "Benny likes you, the Manor likes you..."

  I trail off when I see Helena's blush, hidden poorly by the lip of her teacup.

  She coughs, shakes her head, and sets her tea down. She sticks her arms out and stretches, her whole body shivering with the strain. A few blinks and shoulder-rolls ter, and she suddenly seems much more awake.

  "Mm. Th-thank you. And I can keep... using your library? Or is it your family's?"

  I don’t stare at her for all that.

  I don’t. I am Dame Ivy Crawford, and for all that I’m not popur, I still have the dignity of my title, probably. And surely, people know that I’m the only Crawford left? Maybe she thinks I’m the infamous Amelia Crawford’s distant cousin?

  So, instead, I raise an eyebrow, leaning forward to set my teacup down with a clink. She’s one of those schorly sorts; I have just the thing for her. “You did mention you’d been here a few times, so, I kind of guessed you were using it. You don’t seem like the type to explore Old Imperial dungeons, and ours is mostly renovated, anyways.”

  “What?” Helena frowns, taking a longer sip of her tea. “Oh, this is excellent, thank you.”

  “Huh, you’ve got taste, too. Mincadian Green, though I’m pretty sure there’s something floral in there with it. Bme Benny, they made it.” I offer a thin smile, then shake my head. “So. You’re here for my library, Helena. Why?”

  "I'm training to be a mage, and I can't afford the apprenticeship fees," Helena begins, pausing to take a sip of tea. She wrinkles her nose, exhaling sharply. "And the Church won’t— ah, nevermind."

  She shakes her head, waving it off. Gods, now I just want to know, and here she is dangling it all just out of reach.

  I just shrug, though. No use in pressing her, and I'd rather stay out of the Restoration Church's business. I've had more than enough of their nonsense over the years.

  "And your library, Ivy, has this incredible selection. I knew you had a few, but, I-I-"

  “It’s ridiculous.” Helena straightens, jerking her chin up, setting her tea down, and jabs a finger straight at me. Her green eyes gleam with an inner fire, and it's enough to keep my jaw shut. "Ivy Crawford, I cannot believe your family left this whole collection to rot! You have the entire set of Cssical Magecraft in pristine condition. Even the banned volumes! And don't even get me started on your alchemical section, by the Restoration it's..."

  She goes, and goes, and goes, and I just watch on with a cup of tea. Two cups, then three, and a tray floats over to take our cooling teaset. Helena even hands her teacup over without so much as pausing for breath; good Gods this woman has a lot of air in her.

  First, there's library maintenance, then the importance of education. A little ramble about banned books being foolish, but she seems more resigned than anything towards that part.

  I feel something primal building in my gut, pressing against the sheer absurdity of the situation. This meek girl is talking down to me, as if a Restorer has any right to do so. It's odd, certainly, but the rest of me can't help but get caught up in her passion—

  A snort plunges the room into sudden silence, and it takes a moment to realize that it's coming from me. I huff, choking down a bubble of something, and then let it go in a fit of entirely undylike giggles.

  Helena snaps her jaw shut with a click, cheeks flushing a bright red as she mumbles something I don't quite catch—too busy ughing. She coughs, shakes her head vigorously, and then speaks again.

  "You're ughing at me, aren't—"

  "Gods, n-no," I wave a hand, copying the movement with my tail. The gall of a member of the Church telling me what to do with my property. She clearly didn't know our history. "No, you're fine. Just, here you are, yelling at me about not using my books.”

  I take a calming breath, finally, and spread my mouth in a broad, toothy smile. It's more the smile of a beast than a human, and it's a very powerful tool avaible to me.

  ...she flinches. Figures.

  I breathe in and out, collecting my thoughts. "People don't usually have the guts for that, Helena. It's just... refreshing, I don't know. And a little funny to hear someone go all schor on me."

  Helena smiles back unsteadily, shifting in her seat. She mumbles something, and I have to lean in a bit to listen.

  “...can’t just leave them all to rot, and I want to learn from them.”

  I gnce over to the corner, where a pot of tea is busily making itself. A gentle probe confirms that it’s the cleaning enchantments again. I add a little magic to them, just in case.

  “I think they’ll be fine, don’t worry.” I smile at her again, then raise a finger to stall her incoming point. “But. Yes, you can keep visiting and using my library, sure. I’m not gonna let you walk those back to the Restorers, and you’ll have to ask permission if you want to bring anyone in here. Once I leave again, ask Benny. Other than that, go ahead.”

  She’s smiling broadly now, nodding along. “I—yes! Thank you. You don't—this means a lot to me.”

  “I gathered,” I let my grin fade, reaching out for a teacup as the whole tray returns. I’m pretty impressed with it, honestly; cleaning enchantments aren’t exactly designed to handle teamaking. It’s light, sweet, and would go great with some bread.

  “Hey,” I say aloud. “There’s a bakery in town I spotted st night, and while I don't do breakfast, I could go for a snack. I need to go down anyway for the job, so would you like to come?”

  Helena gives me an odd look before agreeing. Not sure what that’s about.

  "I'm not twelve anymore," I grumble, hefting the pack over one shoulder. "Benny doesn't need to give me a day pack."

  I see Helena smiling out of the corner of my eye, the traitor.

  "At... at least the view is good?" Helena manages, audibly restraining a ugh. "You don't get to see the city id out like this often. Um."

  You don’t, not really. Not unless you live on the cluster of hills north of the city, which are rgely owned by rich folk like me.

  Helena is understating it, too.

  Craumont is one of those old, pre-Colpse cities: a mess of curves, parks, and pzas with only the canal and the main road providing sembnces of organization. Despite everything, it works, as all things Imperial do. It's even nice to walk through—well, except when you get almost-mugged like I did.

  And underneath, barely tangible even to my senses, is the pulsing of Craumont's ancient Imperial wards. Now those are beautiful.

  "I guess," I say finally, strolling to a stop to take in the view. "It's kind of a mess, and it's definitely a bigger one than when I left."

  Helena purses her lips, reaching down to fidget with her scks. I'm gd she chose to keep them; it's a much better look on her than the purple curtain she called a robe.

  "It's not that bad. And it has gotten bigger! Um, did you leave before or after the fire?"

  I suppress a snort. The fire. My cousin’s mother had hired mages to ‘upgrade’ the ancient Imperial wards on the city, and the results were predictable. "More of an explosion, honestly, I don’t know what those city mages were thinking, but sure. What about it?"

  "Well, they made a new district across the tracks and gave it a fire brigade after that! I got here a few weeks after.” Helena says, standing on the tips of her toes and pointing at the somehow even messier sprawl past the train station. I'd seen some on my way in, sure, but only the vague shapes that a rainy night offered.

  "Huh," I say, for ck of better words. A slight smile crosses my lips. "Thanks for the history lesson."

  Helena flushes a cherry red. "Um. I thought you'd like to hear—"

  "I said thank you. I do want to hear it." I fsh a broader grin at her, shaking my head. "At least someone cares about this damn city, right? I guess someone has to, since I sure don’t. Well, other than Lord Craumont.”

  "I— yes, I do." She sighs, kicking her boot against the cobbled path. Without another word, she starts walking away.

  I run a hand through my hair, pulling it over to one side, and start up after her. She seems like she could be interesting, and I’ve gone and insulted her home. Bleh.

  "You, ah," I start, not quite finding the words. I cough and try again. "Helena? I'm paying for breakfast, if you still want to join me."

  It takes her a moment to respond, time enough for me to catch up and see her confused expression.

  "Of course?" Helena says slowly, "You offered, and I trust you."

  She pauses, her green eyes meeting mine. There's an inquisitive spark in them, the same one she got earlier when she went off on a rant. "Why do you ask?"

  I huff, gesturing off vaguely instead of answering. My tail flicks from side to side, carving a divot in the ground. “No reason.”

  She ughs at me— ughs! "So you said it was a bakery. Is it the one on Sharrow Avenue? Because their ftbreads are amazing."

  "Not too far from the constables station, right? I'm not into pin ftbreads. Do they have any jams?"

  "Jams? On ftbread? Why?"

  "In case they don't have jam doughnuts, of course."

  “Jam doughnuts? Is that what’s popur in the bigger cities?”

  Time can really fly when talking about food, as it turns out.