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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Dust assaulted Arya's nose, making her sneeze for the millionth time.
"Ah, damn," she cursed, rubbing her nostrils with her forefinger. The feather duster in her hand was thick with clouds of debris and dirt which had accumulated with time. Cleaning the chimney was no easy task. WHy did she even agree to it?
Up ahead in the kitchen, Cornelia's familiar bustling with the pans and pots could be heard. Ah, that's why. She vaguely remembered her aunt telling her to start cleaning since her cousins would arrive for tea. Which set of cousins, Arya had no idea. Cornelia had always preferred hanging out with her maternal cousins more than the paternal set. If Arya would be asked, she'd have no idea as well.
So, she had been roused from bed at Four Adiem, an unholy hour with not even the first traces of dawn could be seen, and was ordered to start cleaning. A yawn caught in Arya's throat. She dared not open her mouth too wide or she'd get a mouthful of soot flushed down her throat. She was still in the chimney, after all.
Being surrounded by bricks wasn't how Arya imagined her Cornotvon to go but without Eury to haul her out of the house, she was as stuck here as anyone else with relatives dropping by. Her gut twinged at the thought of her friend.
The funeral had been quiet and uneventful. Eury never had a contactable family. Most were cautious and scared enough after hearing what happened from the prints or from the traveling mouths. In her final moments, the only ones who went were Arya, a couple of friends from work, and the last prefect Eury had before being transferred to Arya's floor. It was such an unexpected turn-out that even Arya couldn't stop staring at the prefect for the entirety of the ceremony. Perhaps not all humans find fae obnoxious in this day and age.
With that, Arya's thoughts unwittingly landed on Norren. The prints had said enough. The Council was pushed to a corner after Eury's death exploded all over the media. Journalists were now saying something had to be done to prevent more gruesome events like this happening in broad daylight. By the looks of it, Norren's bill of rights seemed to be the salvation most people hailed. Humans, who liked to walk around their streets without seeing the mark of blood, clamored for it. Fae, despite how concealed and quiet, showed enough support as well.
It must be a field day for Norren and his advisory team but Arya knew better. It was the start of things taking a turn for the worse.
Arya pursed her lips and wiped the sweat dotting her brow. Her legs and backside have started throbbing from staying crouched atop the hearth for so long. She gripped the duster in her hands and continued swiping it over the cobwebs, the piles of soot left by the burned firewood, and other unrecognizable debris. They either clung to the duster's fluffy feathers, dropped to the hearth with a crinkly hiss, or rained over her scalp. She couldn't reach past the smoke shelf and reach the chamber so she might as well scrub the throat immaculate.
Consider this as her help to Norren in his battle to pass the bill of rights in this era. As much as Arya wanted to be with him, she would have to hold it in until he got this war done. The dreams warned her about that. If she pushed to be with Norren, the enemies could use her to get to him. So, she wouldn't. She wouldn't ever be associated with him so they couldn't use her against him. She still didn't know how the dream ended but as long as she stayed in her lane and never picked a fight with anybody, she would be good.
