Neither Faith or I dispelled any of the magic we had accumulated.

  “Prefer to stand?” Revyane asked.

  “No,” I said after a moment, “I’m not particularly inclined to listen to someone who has broken into my room and gone through my effects.”

  “Ah, that does seem fair,” Revayne said, smiling and taking a seat herself at the nearby desk. Well, on the desk would be more appropriate.“And coincidentally was where I intended to start this conversation.”

  Faith and I slid into the room. I stayed by the door, looking to make sure Revayne couldn’t leave while Faith moved to the side, splitting us up and moving to surround her.

  Revayne continued on, unconcerned. “You see, while it is very clear that Lord Winthrop has been targeted by our opposition, he also has a large number of debts, is vain to a fault, and isn’t particularly discreet about who he talks to.”

  Faith’s sigh told me that they had reached many of the same conclusions as I had about the long term problems that might come of that. “And you’re here because?” they asked.

  “Well, to make sure his flaws weren't taken advantage of. Check your bags for tracking runes or enchanted coins. Make sure one of the guests he invited wasn’t actually in someone else’s employ.”

  “And give you an excuse to look through our bags,” I accused.

  “Quite,” Revayne happily agreed. “If I’m going to be working with you, I do need to know about you all.”

  “You could have spoken to us. Asked questions,” Faith said sharply.

  Revayne shrugged, “We haven’t really had the time and things can move awfully fast if you’re not careful.”

  “People lie. Bags are the more pragmatic way to go.”

  Thank you Rin. My tone was sarcastic, but she had helped fill in a gap that Revayne was speaking around.

  “We should keep that in mind for the future.”

  I pushed Rin’s thoughts aside and focused on the situation at hand. “And what makes you think that we’ll keep working with you? After, well. this.”

  Revayne smiled sharply, clearly pleased. It was condescending and made me want to put a foxfire in her face.

  But.

  But, we were being civil and that would be wrong.

  “And we can always light her on fire later. We can’t always converse later.”

  And Rin was back to coldly logical. How quickly she moved between her different presentations was disorienting but she had raised a salient point.

  “I knew you were the smart one of the group,” Revayne said to me. “There’s always one.”

  Faith looked offended, but didn’t immediately comment.

  “And while I appreciate the flattery, you didn’t answer the question,” I said in response. “Why would we continue to work with you now that we know you’ve done this?”

  Revayne waved her hand dismissively. “Yes, yes. The important question.” She pointed at Faith without taking her eyes off me. “Faith, Ignas, and even Kilik will work with me because I’m a member of the Hollowed Knives.” I could see Faith’s shoulders slump before steeling again.

  “Prove it,” they commanded.

  Revayne responded, singing more than speaking, “Folly teaches us the one absolute rule, ‘Anything is possible if you rethink what is true.’”

  Faith cursed at that and I could feel the energies she had accumulated dissipate. Faith believed them which was discomforting. But in no way conclusive. I could still burn Revayne if need be.

  I laughed a little, covering my discomfort. “So you know a song that you could have gotten from someone else. Doesn’t prove anything to me.”

  Revayne smiled brazenly once more. And again I wanted to remove it from her face. I paused and considered that for a moment. I wasn’t that violent by nature and her brashness wasn’t that offensive. I focused on my thoughts and found Rin’s anger laid atop my frustrations at having my privacy breached, amplifying it. Subtle. And just when I had dismissed her as a threat for later.

  “She really would look better with less nose to look down on us from.”

  I sighed and pushed the thoughts apart. Now Revayne’s smile seemed confident but wasn’t nearly as infuriating. Things to be careful of.

  “Of course that doesn’t sway you,” Revayne said, “Nor did I expect it to. But perhaps this instead. Red hair isn’t nearly as common in these lands, which is why you’ve had such odd reactions. You’ve probably been accused of being a member of the Crimson Faithful or the Stalwart?”

  Reluctantly, I nodded my head.

  “That’s because that group draws heavily from one of the few families to have red hair in the area, the Talnos’s”

  I blinked, my mind connecting that to previous conversations. “As in Lady Talnos who Lord Winthrop owes debts to?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  “The same,” Revayne cheerfully agreed. “Though the truth is a bit more convoluted than that. While the Crimson Faithful are flush with Talnoses, they aren’t part of the main family. At least, not anymore. Lady Talnos, in exchange for the title of Governess of Freeport, has denounced them and removed them from her family.”

  I raised my eyebrows at that, “I’m sure that is important. But as someone who’s just arrived, what exactly does that mean?”

  Revayne nodded, continuing on. “Well, it means that Lady Talnos is one of the people who are in charge of managing the city, including making sure the taxes are collected for the empire, handling grievances, and all administrative work. As long as that end goes well and Runnan decrees are followed, she’s largely free to do what she wants with it.”

  “And all she had to do was sell out her family for this privilege?”

  “Officially sell out her family,” Revayne corrected. “Much of the Talnos name and power comes from being the founding member of the Stalwart. There’s little to no chance she just gave that up. More than likely, this is a ploy of some kind and adds to her power base.”

  I was a bit lost. Politics, treachery, and this type of duplicity were well beyond me and my training. I’d ask about it later, but right now it seemed particularly unhelpful. Though the tacit admission that Revayne was associated with the Talnos family and thus the Crimson Faithful was interesting.

  “Right,” I said, “Well, that’s lovely for her, but how does this help me?”

  “Ah, yes,” Revayne said, focusing back onto point. “As long as you have red-hair you’re going to be associated with the Stalwart which will give you some advantages when dealing with the locals.”

  I thought back to my previous interactions with the guards and Lord Winthrop. “Fearsome reputation?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Quite. But they’re also known as faithful members of the Old Gods, which will open some doors for you but also make you stand out to the Runnan patrols more.”

  Oh, endless abyss, that’s exactly what I needed. More attention from a group who would try to enslave me on sight if they saw through my disguise.

  “Yes,” Revayne agreed, “A notable problem. Especially for you.”

  My eyes narrowed. She knew? I looked around the room and found the letter from Kyomi and the topaz petal. If she could read Tho-myon, then discussion of a sister would certainly contradict my orphanage story, but wouldn’t necessarily reveal my deception.

  “But the logic follows from that deception to what you are quite easily. She might not know Kitsune, but is probably fairly confident that you are a Morphkin.”

  Guessing and looking for more information then. “Quite,” I eventually agreed.

  “Which is why I suggest this instead,” she said, pulling a letter out from the ruffled skirts. “A letter of heritage, indicating that while you have red hair, you are a natural child from one of the late Lord Talnos’ dalliances with a lady of ill repute. Shame at your heritage would explain why you’re claiming to be from the south, the letter of heritage exempts you from investigation by the Runnan Empire for potentially being a member of the Crimson Faithful, and also explains your red hair in a way that wards off further investigation.”

  “While also allowing me to lean on their reputation if I need to,” I said slowly

  She nodded and set the letter on the table. “For you. Proof that we can work together.”

  I glanced at the letter again, “Provided you’re telling the truth.”

  She sighed and shrugged, “True, but I feel that’s a risk you’re willing to take.”

  I didn’t directly answer verbally, instead letting the magical energy I had accumulated dissipate.

  “What about Cecilia?” Faith asked.

  Revayne produced a second letter from her dress, “This should assuage her. If you’d be so kind?”

  We both nodded and Revayne stood up, making her way over to her wig. With practiced ease she placed it on her head and tucked her red hair away. She then slumped her shoulders and became Sarah again before our eyes.

  “Now, m’lady, is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked, her voice Sarah’s quiet submission.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I sighed and moved away from the door.

  “Very good,” she said.

  “Wait,” Faith called out, “What assurances do we have that the Crimson Stalwarts won’t be angered by Kara trading on their name?”

  “The Crimson Faithful,“ Sarah corrected with a small laugh, “The Crimson Faithful, or the Stalwarts as they prefer, are nothing more than a branch of the Hollowed Knives. I’ll pass along word on your behalf.”

  There was a pause where we exchanged glances and offered only silence before she left with our tacit permission.

  ****************************************************

  After ‘Sarah’ left, Faith undid the laces on my dress and corset, and then went back to dinner. I wasn’t sure what excuse she was going to give for my lack of return, but at that moment I didn’t particularly care. I was tired, sore, and dangerous to be around until I figured this enticement field out. Plus, there was a host of questions I had accumulated throughout the day that would only be found through self-reflection.

  Or discussion with Rin.

  So, I carefully stepped out of the dress, placed it carefully across one of the sitting chairs like Sarah, or should I say Revayne? I shook my head, the person who helped me get dressed had when they came in and changed into my tunic and skirt. They weren’t as comfortable as my kimono, but they certainly were more practical and comfortable enough for what I had to do. There was a moment of guilt that I hadn’t done this since before Mulvalod, but I assuaged that by reminding myself that I couldn’t afford to lose myself in meditation in the Darkways and wouldn’t have been able to be objective after… after the Cauldron.

  I took a pillow from the bed and then, set it on the floor and sat down. With a deep breath, I straightened my spine, like there was a string drawing it to the sky. When my body was centered on my stomach, I looked at a spot on the floor, maybe a pace ahead of me, and let my eyes unfocus. I breathed in through my nose, let the breath fill and then spin through my lungs and then exhaled through my mouth. And in that moment, free of toxins and the external I fell deeper inside myself.

  Memories of learning to meditate drifted to the top. I could feel Elder Junpei’s gentle nudges as I continued to position myself to better feel the flow through my body. I tucked my feet tighter together, laid my hands on my thighs, and before I knew it, I had already completed twelve more cycles of breathing.

  With practiced ease, I brushed the memories aside and instead focused on my body. I wasn’t in the strictest of forms Elder Junpei had taught all those years ago, but a modification many women made for comfort. Noticing the memories starting to resurface, I pushed them away and instead let myself revert to my true form, sliding completely into my position and deeper into my meditative trance. It was another twelve breathing cycles before I began my body assessment.

  I started at my toes and worked my upwards, mentally comparing to the inventory I had taken of myself on the boat and the one from before my death. As I worked up my leg I started to notice the differences. It had been subtle on the boat, too small to be certain, but my legs were longer now. Nothing much, maybe a finger or two, but still notable. Also, my legs were more defined. Muscles, I concluded, from all the walking and running I had been doing. Nothing unexpected yet, just finally conclusive.

  I paused, and did the scan again. Still, nothing unexpected which in of itself was unexpected. My left thigh, where I had been cut. The bandages were still there, but underneath? Nothing. Flawless. I ran my mental gaze over it a third time, just to be sure.

  Structurally, it was identical to my memories, but there was a faint sensation with it. Magic. Faith had enhanced their medicinal care with some magical energies. And done so subtly enough I hadn’t noticed. Granted, I had been distracted…

  I cycled my breath three times, pushing myself back into a trance.

  The skin had been fully healed, the cut as if it had never been there. It was as if the wound had never happened. I went over the area again. Almost exactly as if it had never happened. Fascinating. I made another note of things to talk about and continued upward.

  My tails were just as they were before. Which, while a notable deviation from before I died, was the same as the image from the boat. My hips were slightly wider, though whether that was due to muscles or bone was still uncertain. My waist and stomach were again more toned and my bust was unfortunately larger. I’d need a new binder at some point. A longer neck, curled eyelashes. My hair was longer too, though that seemed to be growing at the standard rate. My arms were slightly longer, as were my fingers, which fit with the increased height and increased flexibility. Assessment done, I cycled my breath again and focused on the meanings.

  Countless minor changes that pushed uncomfortably towards the exact description I had heard be promoted as the ideal body for a woman by anyone in my village growing up. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, so I pushed it aside for later when I would evaluate my feelings. The direction of the changes, however, indicated an intent or perhaps a definition to where I was going. If this was a gift, like the Starmarks, or a consequence of my… heritage, remained uncertain. A question for Rin.

  Next, came the flows of my body, blood and magic. My heartbeat was slower but stronger than it had been previously. The flow of magic, more like a circular river than the erratic pulses of the heart, was weak, but grew stronger with each cycle of breaths as I drew in a little of the ambient magic from around me and made it my own, supplementing the natural regeneration of magic within myself.

  I took a few cycles to observe the rate and observed that I was regenerating magical energy a bit faster than I had on the boat. Well beyond the increase in rate I expected from a meal. Perhaps from use? The information I couldn’t say conclusively, so I made a point to make some measurements for future reviews. While I was doing that, I spent the time necessary to map the channels and groves as the magic flowed through my body, particularly focusing on the seven pooling points.

  Then I did a few cycles focusing on nothing before bringing my emotions to the front. This was always the most dangerous part of a dedicated mediation cycle as it involved looking at something you felt strongly about dispassionately, a contradiction that could disrupt the entire process. Carefully, I brought up thoughts of home, a safer topic to ease my way into this dangerous journey.

  The loss was still there, the anger at the moments I could have had with Kyomi and the comfort of knowing what would come next. The despondency over not knowing when, or even if, I might return. The grief of having my structure and stability removed, but it was muted due to the age and the distance from the events and the conviction that what I was doing was necessary. I permitted myself the briefest of smiles that at least something was the same before pushing it aside and moving onto the next thought.

  Which was?

  I stuttered, my practiced rhythm faltering as I contemplated thinking about the combat earlier today. I wasn’t detached enough or ready for that yet. In, hold, out, hold went my breath, recentering myself before I moved onto a topic I could manage.

  The changes to my body.

  Part of me was pleased. Beauty, in its many forms, was always prized and thus being beautiful gave me some form of validation. There were many stories of a young noble being so taken by a fetching beauty that he sweeps her away to a better life. In the more idealistic ones, she becomes a noble and all of her issues are solved. In the more cynical ones, the passion is fleeting, ending when the looks fade or when she realizes she isn't happy in her new life. The question was, which one did I associate with?

  I enjoyed the romance, the idea of being swept away, but I couldn’t believe it. Not anymore. Not after everything I had seen and been…

  I breathed a few cycles, forcing myself back into a dispassionate mindset. Feeling emotions was necessary, getting lost was not. Getting lost in emotions would only drown me instead of helping me understand.

  I paused and thought about the past few months, particularly on how I felt about being actively pursued.

  The early memories focused on being embarrassed and flustered. Then the fear and anger at the Sea Elves in port, then offended and angry at the Dusk Elves for betting over who could bed me. Not a single positive memory associated with being attractive, or enticing, or whatever word I could use. In fact, the closest I had to a positive emotion was the gratefulness I felt towards Eninald for standing up to the overly aggressive. And like most memories about Eninald, that soured quickly.

  So, neither story was the one I associated with. I felt something else.

  Anger.

  Anger at being objectified. Anger about being pursued for what I looked like or this field that I had no control over. Anger about being treated as a potential conquest, a gamble, instead of a person.

  So much anger, and at the center of it, a burning fury at the fact that all of this was because of what I looked like and what my body did unintentionally, not because they knew me as me. It made me want to launch fire at them, burn them, show them I was more than a good view or an object.

  “That would be counterproductive to blending in.”

  Thank you so very much Rin. I hadn’t considered that.

  “Sarcasm is not conducive to meditation. It is too emotional.”

  No, really?

  And like that, I was out of my meditative trance, the anger I felt bubbling over and damaging the dispassionate detachment required for reflection. And while I had gotten some work done, I hadn’t finished as much evaluation as I wanted. A thought crossed my mind, nefarious enough that I had to ask.

  “Was that you trying to be genuinely helpful or are you trying to distract me from something again?” I asked Rin.

  Silence.

  “No,” I hissed, “No, you don’t get to do that to me. Not now.”

  And like that, my fingers started moving, moving through spell forms with angry sharpness, but not without precision, pulling the spell for mental visualization together. I had initially dismissed doing this tonight as too taxing on my channels, but anger proved to be a strong motivator.

  The spell was one I had never actually cast before. Hadn’t had the Energy to power the effect. I had learned it as part of meditation exercises, the motions and repetitions that build into casting the spell were useful for focusing attention even without filling the spellform with Energy. But now I wasn’t the weak Kara of last winter. What had once been an impossibility merely became a strain and that was only due to my fatigue.

  The Energy flowed through my arms and into the spellform I had crafted, but instead of producing an external effect, it began to feed back into me. Ghostly images began to replace the room, spillage from the spell that was a side effect of my fatigue. The spell was supposed to make a sort of mental shrine, a way to reflect and reclaim memories, but had some historical context for being used to draw malevolent spirits into a battleground. Fighting Rin wasn’t the plan, but I still intended on a confrontation.

  With a snap of my wrists, I completed the spell, manifesting the effect as a faint white glow on each pointer finger. I smiled, victorious and vicious before carefully bringing my hands to my head. I was angry, and while that was probably a risk to a meditative spell, it wasn’t one that I expected to have any feedback on. And, tellingly, Rin wasn’t trying to stop me which suggested that she didn’t think this was a risk to me.

  Assured, I touched the fingers to my head and the world went black.

  ************************************************************************************************************

  When I came to, I was inside my mental shrine. Not just viewing a construction that didn’t actually exist as a memory tool, but physically inside it. And everything was exactly as I had imagined it, from the color of the stone at my feet to the type of wood that made the walls to the patterns on the sliding dividers. It was perfect and uniform in a way that a real temple could never be, but it still felt comfortable and familiar because it was of my mind. I allowed myself a moment of wonder as I looked around.

  The inner gate stretched above my head, tapestries hanging from the ceiling and cedar beams crisscrossing the ceiling above me. To my right were my oldest memories, rooms of my childhood memories. The few I had of Father resided there along with the few years I remembered before Kyomi was born. If I followed the right path I would wind through the entirety of my life. As I watched, the path started to illuminate, working as a guide to help me focus. With an exertion of will, I pulled myself from the familiar routines that helped with memory and turned my head.

  Ahead of me was the central Temple Courtyard, an open area perfect for meditation and reflection on recent events. If I crossed the Courtyard I would find my most recent memories and thoughts, a short cut to the end of the rightward path. It didn’t beckon like the rightward path did, but there was a desire for the simple serenity it promised. However, I instead focused on how my recent meditations had been interrupted, the anger I had felt, and deliberately turned to my left.

  I had never done this before, it was no part of my memory or pattern, and so I found a black void, the complete absence of anything. However, now that I had established that I would turn to the left, the shrine, by necessity, began to fill catering to my desires for this wing. Motes of color and light began to swirl in the void, slowly filling the blankness and eventually resolving into a sliding paper door decorated with ravens in flight.

  With a careful hand, I pushed the door aside and stopped.

  The room was softly lit and had a small table with a small cushion on each side for one to kneel on. In the center of the table sat a teapot, four bowls, and the accessories required for a thin tea ceremony. Not how I thought I would confront Rin, but perhaps the better method. “A sweet word is often a better incentive than a knife.”

  So, with a deep breath and practiced motions, I sat myself and began to prepare the table for tea, starting with the tea caddy and scoop. As I went through the motions, preparing the tea the way Mother had taught me, I heard motion outside the room. Smiling slightly, I called out.

  “Won’t you come and sit with me?”

  There was a sigh and then a door opposite where I came in slid open, revealing a black-haired woman with a very familiar face. It was the same face I had seen in the mirror while getting dressed earlier this evening. My face.

  “If you insist,” Rin answered.