Ember and Camellia emerge onto the bsted courtyard with its bck, ashen soil and soot-stained inner walls, and almost bump into Maeve going the other direction.

  “Sorry, I — I have to not be here,” Maeve manages, clearly on the verge of tears, then pushes past Ember and Camellia and disappears into her own dorm room.

  Ember turns back to the courtyard, where she sees Ishaza and Fianna sitting together cross-legged in the center. There are angry red welts all over Fianna’s body, in lines and circles; it looks like they’re particurly bad at her colr, wrists and ankles, where they almost make solid manacles around her flesh. She’s got her head in her hands and her breath is hitching hard; no doubt she’s crying. Ishaza has id a gentle hand on Fianna’s shoulder and seems to be concentrating.

  Ember steps out in front of Camellia instinctively, and inches closer. Camellia simply nods and falls back to Ember’s left shoulder.

  “Um, hello,” Ember says to Ishaza and the clearly-distraught Fianna. “I heard raised voices, so I came to see if there was anything I could do to help.”

  Ishaza looks over and favors Ember with a smile. “Please,” she says. “Join us. Fianna could use the company.”

  “I don’t want to talk to them,” Fianna half-sobs into her palms, trying to brush away her tears. “I’m not — It’s not — they shouldn’t care about me —”

  Ember sits down across from Fianna, on the other side of Ishaza, and shakes her head. “But we do care about you,” she says. “I missed you this morning, but… It’s clear there’s something wrong. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Camellia sits next to Ember, across from Ishaza, completing the four sides of a square. She raises a hand to y it on Fianna’s shoulder, then puts it down when Fianna flinches away.

  “It’s okay,” Camellia says in a soothing tone. “We’re all here for you. It’s clear this… scarring… is really being awful for you, but it’ll pass, okay? We’ll fix it together.”

  Fianna looks up, and Ember suppresses a gasp: Fianna’s face is a mess of smudged makeup, mascara bleeding and blush trailing across her cheeks. No wonder she always looks so unfairly pretty.

  “Go away,” she groans. “Nobody should have to see me like this.”

  Camellia leans in. “It’s okay, Fianna, we’ve got your back. We’re friends, remember? And friends don’t let their friends cry without giving them a shoulder to lean on.”

  Fianna bites her lip, then shakes her head. Shrugging off the hand Ishaza has on her shoulder, she crosses her arms, and a gout of fme bursts from her and washes over Camellia. “I said, go away.”

  Ember looks over at Camellia and shakes her head just slightly. “Why don’t you go and talk to Maeve, Camellia? I think Fianna’s feeling kind of crowded right now. I’ll talk to her.”

  Camellia looks between Ember and Fianna, then nods. “Alright. I trust you.” She gets up, and heads off back toward the dormitory. Ember finds her gaze following her nude back - but she forces it down and turns her attention back to Fianna. It’s hard to find her hot when she’s covered in scarring and obviously distraught.

  Ember shifts over, and takes the spot that was vacated by Camellia.

  “It’s okay,” she says softly to Fianna. “You don’t have to talk to me. I just… want to offer anything I can, alright? Would you like a bnket? A distraction? I can just shut up if you’d like me to.”

  Fianna looks over at Ember, and gres at her — but then deftes a little.

  “I…” She has trouble meeting Ember’s gaze. “I could use — someone to sit with me.”

  “Okay,” Ember says. “I can be that.”

  She sits cross-legged next to Fianna and looks over at Ishaza, across the halfcircle from her. “Do you mind if I ask Ishaza about you, or would you prefer me not to?”

  Fianna swallows back a sob, and steadies her breath a little. “You can — you can talk to her.”

  “Okay.” Ember keeps her voice soft, barely more than a murmur. “Ishaza, can you tell me what’s going on here?”

  Ishaza nods. “Yes. If a newly-kindled aspirant has a deeply negative view of themselves, or some injury to their soul in the past, they can start adopting a “true form” that’s wounded, resulting in emotional instability as the hurts in their past assault their soul. It seems Fianna is one such aspirant.” She points to the patterns of raised welts at Fianna’s wrists, ankles and colr. “She believes herself a prisoner, so her true self bears the marks of long imprisonment. I believe I know what this refers to, but it’s naturally quite personal to Fianna, so I won’t repeat the rationale to you without her consent.”

  Fianna manages a small ugh. “Personal. That’s, funny,” she suppresses another sob. “It’s not all that personal. It’s just — the same damn thing every person from the Shives has to deal with —”

  Ember’s eyebrows jump. The Shives — the worst district in the city, rows after rows of tiny, gang-haunted tenement houses, put up almost a century ago and now half-rotted with age and poor maintenance. No wonder Fianna wants so badly to be a proper member of the guild with all their privileges and wealth if she’s been living in poverty all her life.

  “I never would have guessed,” Ember says. “That silver owl pin — how on earth could you afford it —”

  Fianna looks away and says nothing. Stolen, then, most likely. Or perhaps a gift from Ishaza…?

  “Was it stolen?”, Ember presses. “Or did Ishaza get it for you as a gift…?”

  Fianna looks up and gres at Ember. “No, gods no. You touch one stolen piece and the gangs own your soul, everyone in the Shives knows that. I paid for it fair and square, with scrimping and saving since I was fourteen, working the worst sort of jobs down at the docks.” She exhales. “It was part of my interview clothes. So Ishaza would know. Would know I’m not some — gutter rat —” Her breath hitches and she tears up again.

  “Oh.” Ember blinks. She’d heard that in the Shives, even a single precious object could matter to how others would react, whether you’d be considered respectable or not. But it’s another matter to see it id out in scars on Fianna’s skin.

  “... You wanted to be a courtesan so you’d be free of that,” Ember says. “So you wouldn’t have to scrimp and save and — have to deal with people judging you just because you grew up poor and couldn’t afford the same things as them —”

  Fianna takes a breath and nods. “Yes.”

  “You’re going to be free of them,” Ember says quietly. “You know it, I know it. You’re kindled. You’re to be a courtesan. In a hundred years all the people who looked down on you will be dead and you’ll still be young and healthy. You’ll be safe. You’ll be free.”

  Fianna rubs her eyes. “Then why did Maeve abandon me like that —”

  Ember gently ys a hand on Fianna’s shoulder, careful of the welts on her skin. “She didn’t mean to. She’s just not thinking very clearly right now. We just kindled. She’ll apologize eventually. All you need to do is give her time and space.”

  Fianna looks at the hand on her shoulder, then back at Ember, and then she lunges across the circle, half-falling into Ember’s p, and hugs her desperately, like she’s the only solid thing in the whole world.

  “Okay,” she says. “Okay.”

  Ember gently embraces Fianna, and softly squeezes her. “Yeah. It’s going to be okay.”

  Ishaza gets up, and gently beckons to Ember. “Let’s get her inside. I have some treatments for this, now that she’s calmed down enough to take them.”

  Ember nods, and squeezes Fianna again. “Fianna? Can you come inside with me?”

  “I don’t wanna see Maeve —”

  “It’s okay. Ishaza will keep her away.” Ember softly strokes Fianna’s hair. “We’ll treat this, okay? You won’t be a prisoner forever. All you need to do is know that.”

  Fianna sniffles, and nods into Ember’s shoulder. “Okay.” She gets her feet beneath her, lets go of Ember, and carefully stands. Her breath steadies, slows. “I’ll - I’ll do my best.”

  Carefully, Ember stands as well, takes Fianna by the hand, and guides her into the dormitories once more.