Working in a dead-end, post office job in the heart of a primarily-Human city, Arya Salcrest cannot let her secret out else she loses her rights and her safety. Norren Sterling, a member of the Council whom she met after a failed museum trip, is det...
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Aldermere was not a magical place.
That's what Arya thought to herself as she fixed the ribbon she wrapped around her collar. Her reflection on the mirror blinked back at her—a woman she barely knew. She smiled and raised a hand in greeting and the reflection imitated her, just inverted. For once, her skin glowed with a quiet shine. Her eyes sparkled.
She...couldn't be excited, could she?
Aldermere was not a magical place.
It's where her persecutors flourish. It's a cage, a trap meant to lure the innocent in its embrace. She shouldn't forget how one mistake could land her into dangers unimaginable. People like her didn't belong here but, for some reason, they're all contained here. They couldn't leave. They couldn't live either. There's no magic in a place such as this.
Aldermere was not a magical place.
A horn honked from the streets outside. Arya dashed to the window, pushing back the drawn curtains a bit to reveal a burgundy carriage parked by the curb near the flat's front door. From her spot on the third floor, she saw the carriage's polished roof catch the mid-morning sunlight. It gleamed. The horse pulling it looked like it was raised in the poshest stables fit for a monarch. Arya knew next to nothing about breeding horses but she could distinguish a spoiled beast from one who wasn't.
Whoever Norren was, he's got the funds. That, or he's secretly a thief stripping people off their coin.
Arya stepped away from the window and checked her reflection again. Her corset was tighter than usual, her skirts straighter than necessary. She wore a muted color of blue, resembling a couch more than anything. Her hair was as always pinned up, leaving room for some strands to fall over her hairline to disguise her horns. The wide-brimmed hat she wore over her head covered most of her eyes which was what she preferred when going out. A single feather stuck out from a clump of ornamental flowers stitched to the band.
She sighed and gave herself a tight-lipped smile. Here goes nothing.
The door to her room opened and out stepped Cornelia, still clad in her sleeping robe. "Darling, who is that Upser parked in front of our flat? Do you—" she stopped, mid-yawn, to look Arya up and down. "Do I...do I want to know?"
Arya chuckled. "Depends," she joined her aunt by the doorway and threw her arms around the older woman's shoulders. "I'll see you after dinner. Don't wait up. I"ll be out all day."
Cornelia blinked when Arya pulled away but nodded. "Take care, darling," she said. "He seems well-off, ain't he?"
Arya snorted. "He's an Upser," her lips curled in a playful smile as she stepped past her aunt and trudged across the living room. She yanked the door to their flat before turning back to her aunt. "Shouldn't that explain everything?"
Before her aunt could reply, Arya shut the door. With sure steps, she rounded the corridor leading to the stairs' landing. When she emerged through the lobby of the complex, the first thing she saw was Norren looking down at the pocket watch chained to his belt.
