Miss Halga said nothing.
She gathered her sons — the bruised, humiliated, silent boys — and left.
The training yard was quiet.
Evriana stood alone.
Her face was bloody, her cheek red, her eyes wet, her stick still in her hand. She looked at the young woman — the tall, armed, amber-eyed woman who had just defended her — and felt nothing but confusion.
In her experience, adults did not defend her. Adults looked at her pale eyes and her small frame and saw 'half-blood'. They saw 'commoner's daughter'. They saw 'less'.
This woman had not.
Evriana clenched her teeth.
She turned away.
She would not look at this woman. Would not acknowledge her. Would not give her the satisfaction of gratitude, because gratitude meant debt, and debt meant obligation, and obligation meant that someone could take things away.
"Oy."
The voice was warm.
"Little sister."
Evriana stopped.
