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.

Arya wasn't selfish. She would want what's best for the whole fae kind even if it meant having nothing to do with Norren. She'd find another man, someday. Preferably fae, just so she could lessen the drama cross-racial unions usually get.

So, as long as she stayed here, scrubbing chimneys and straightening the throw pillows on the lounge chairs every five minutes, she would be safe. At least until the bill was passed, which, as expected, was taking forever.

"Arya, darling!" Cornelia's voice rang from the kitchen. "Can you step out and fetch me some parsley? It seems like we ran out of it. I need it for my pasta!"

Arya examined her work with the chimney. The bricks weren't back to their original sienna shade but it's fine. A little char wouldn't hurt. Let her hope next year's round of general cleaning would be kinder. "In a minute!" she shouted back, moving out of the throat.

She must have lengthened her legs prematurely because her head slammed against the brick facing. A cry flitted out of her lips as she heard a distinct snap. Oh, damn. Did she destroy the fireplace?

While rubbing the sore spot on her forehead which had begun stinging, she examined the extent of her damage. Apart from the loose brick, everything else was fine. She stretched her hands to move the brick back to its place, to at least be able to pretend there weren't any problems with the facing, but paused when she noticed a chain dangling from the gap between the casting and the bricks.

What was that?

Her curiosity won over her. She dislodged the brick fully, expecting the entire mantle to fall over her. When it held, she breathed a sigh of relief. Then, she stuck her hand into the dark hole and drew out a slick golden chain. She knitted her eyebrows. A necklace? What's it doing in this part of the house? Could it be an old family heirloom? This flat wasn't even Cornelia's to begin with. Did someone leave it here and forgot to take it?

She turned the chain on her fingers, admiring the way it reflected the bright morning light beaming through the thin curtains from the windows in the living room. Then, her eyes fell towards the pendant dangling at the other end. It was a strange symbol—a small circle surrounded by serrated edges like fire waves. She hadn't seen it before.

"Arya? You there?" Cornelia called.

Arya flinched and shoved the necklace to the pocket of her skirt. Later. She'd contemplate wearing it later. "Just a second!" she called. She tried to get out of the throat once more, keeping her legs bent closer to the hearth and shimmying across it this time. She stretched her leg, making sure it was planted on the carpet first before swinging the rest of her body out. The facing whizzed a few inches away from her hair. She sighed. Good.

She straightened, dusting her skirts and sleeves free from any traces of soot and dust. Her hair, even though it was tucked underneath a bandanna and tied in a low cinch by her nape, was probably a nightmare. Still, she trudged to her room and fixed her hair, making sure her bonnet hid her stumped horns. Her fingers moved with such adept twists and turns she need not worry about how she would look.

As soon as she finished, she strode back to the kitchen to find Cornelia poring over a recipe book, eyebrows drawn in concentration. She was muttering about teaspoons and tablespoons when Arya sidled to her.

"Is parsley all you need?" she asked.

Cornelia raised her eyes from the book to rest upon Arya. "Oh, milk and eggs," she said. "And possibly butter. Nuts. Raisins. Cheese."

Her aunt snapped her fingers and pointed to Arya. "Get yourself something nice too."

Arya rolled her eyes, leaning against the countertop. "It's my money, Cornelia," she said. "Is that all? Milk, eggs, a possible butter, nuts, raisings, and cheese?"

"Aren't you a little parrot, dear?" Cornelia teased. She jerked her chin towards the vague direction of the flat's door. "Go on. My cousins will arrive at Three Pondiem. Just in time for tea. They're from Greenlock and they wired me earlier to inform me they just left. I need the parsley at the earliest convenience."

Arya bobbed her head and left the flat. She tackled the steps with expert grace and moved about the streets with practiced strides. People bustled around her—a great comfort for such a person in a perilous situation such as her. She tucked her hands into the pockets sewn from the sides of her skirts. Her fingers brushed the sliver of the golden chain she found in the chimney. She still had to ask Cornelia about it. Perhaps after her cousins have gone back to Greenlock.

The supplies shop appeared in the distance. It was one of the wonders of Beironet that lured Cornelia and Arya in. The establishments were really just this close to the living complexes, making it easier to go about their daily lives.

A shadow flitted behind her, her periphery catching it. She quickened her pace, her shoulders tensing as she felt an ominous tickle at the base of her neck. Like someone had their eyes on her. Out of all the faces in the crowd, they're there for her.

Her throat constricted. The taps of her boots against the cobblestones turned erratic. She wedged herself into pockets of people walking around in clumps. She'd be safe there. The shop she was supposed to go to whizzed by her. She peeled off the current group she was in and lunged for the glass-paned door. If it was a shop, there would be multiple witnesses. It was a closed space, after all. No one would be able to try anything funny without being seen.

Her fingers closed around the door's handle when a sharp pain flared at the base of her neck. Darkness swept over her. She didn't have any memory of ever hitting the ground.