❝ Pain was my fuel, until the fire began bleeding from my veins. ❞
The girl without a name.
The black-haired fiend devoid of fear.
The sharp-tongued scoundrel always ready with a trick up her sleeve.
Thief and street rat Azura knows how to hustle a...
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◢✥◣ PREVIOUSLY... ◥✥◤
In her unconscious state, Azura encountered her deceased brother, reminding her of his harsh teachings and the secrets he kept from her about being part of the Order, also reminding her that he's not her real brother and that's just a title Azura gave him as a child with no family. She awoke to an apologetic Suri who had helped heal her and then revealed they all must attend a ball in the near future, much to Azura's dismay.
༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛
"It's not a debate," Suri says, her hands on her hips as she assesses both Lilja and I.
I glance at Lilja as her head thuds against the desk in our room, her exasperated grunt muffled by the wood.
"I was hoping to get some training in now that I'm healed, so..." I begin, but swallow when Suri turns her green gaze to me, sharp in the flickering lights of the candles.
"We've all been having a rubbish time lately, so this is our one and only chance to have fun and it's not up for argument." She's right. It's been nearly a week since our run in the mud, and what a hectic week it's been.
But a ball isn't my idea of fun.
"I can't believe it's compulsory to go," I grumble once again.
"If you fake sickness then I will too," Lilja says from her defeated place at the desk.
"Stop being so negative," Suri chastises as she turns towards the wardrobe and throws open the doors. "No one is getting sick, I'm damn well not."
"No," is the first word that leaves my lips when Suri starts tossing dresses onto her bed. My skin drains of colour and my feet inch back. I've lived my entire life in pants and shirts and varying degrees of filth. Never have I put on silk or jewellery or anything of the sort.
"Yes," Suri replies over her shoulder.
"She's not going to give up," Lilja sighs, lifting her head to scrutinise the colourful array of dresses. "The more you struggle, the more painful it'll be."
I'd set a dress on fire before I ever wore one.
"Where did you even get all of these?" I ask, certain that it'd be impossible to steal this many dresses.
"These ones we bought," Suri says, wrapping an ivory scarf around her neck, the fabric fluttering from her shoulders in silken waves. "There's a rich old woman in Warroll that very much appreciates my abilities with sygils. I do the odd job for her and she pays me handsomely."
"I need to meet this woman," I mutter, moving forward to poke the thick frills of a lavender dress.
