“Lamberra! You’re actually on time?” Lacey’s voice cut through the bustle of Whitewash Alley, her teasing lilt rising above the din of music and laughter. She stood tall among the crowd, a striking figure of effortless grace. Her copper-colored hair caught the torchlight like strands of polished metal, gleaming with every subtle movement. Her smile was wide, disarming and effortlessly radiant.

  “I’m so sorry, Lacey,” Lamberra murmured as she walked toward her, the words barely audible beneath the noise. Lacey shifted slightly, opening herself up toward Lamberra, watching her movements, the subtle falter in her steps. Without thinking, Lamberra leaned into Lacey’s shoulder. “I’m just… tired,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a long day. A long life.”

  The confession slipped out before she could stop it. A crack in the armor she wore every day just to survive. The threadbare blankets of her cot, the gnawing hunger that no stale bread could fix, the crushing weight of the future, but worst of all, Lamberra had no clue on how to fix it. All of it pressed in crushing her. Lacey, with her effortless charm and unshakable confidence, was the only person Lamberra allowed herself to lean on. Not her best friend, perhaps, but trusted, oddly enough. Lacey’s teasing demeanor faded instantly. Her brows knit together, and warmth replaced the usual playful mischief in her golden gaze.

  “What happened?” she asked, voice low, steady. Her fingers slipped through Lamberra’s uneven brown hair, smoothing strands into place. The touch was gentle, absentminded, but grounding. Lamberra hesitated. The words sat in her throat, heavy and unspoken. There was too much. Saying any of it aloud would make it too real.

  “Can we skip the drinks tonight?” she asked instead, her voice barely above the rumble of the street. “I just want to talk.”

  Lacey didn’t press. She didn’t need to. Without a word, she straightened into a commanding posture. She snapped her fingers sharply. A knight materialized at her side as if summoned from the shadows, his armor glinting in the torchlight. Lamberra caught only fragments of their hushed exchange, the surrounding noise swallowing the rest. But there was no doubt, Lacey knew how to take charge.

  “Come,” Lacey said simply, brushing her hand against Lamberra’s arm in quiet reassurance. Lamberra followed without hesitation, leaving behind the drunken chaos of Whitewash Alley as they wound through the city’s streets. With each turn, the world shifted.With each turn, the world shifted. With each turn, the world shifted. Lamberra had never been past the poor parts of Ashvale, there was never a need.

  The ragged laughter and coarse shouts of the slums gave way to something more restrained, more controlled. Knights stood sentinel at every corner, their sharp salutes offered not just to Lacey, but…to me? Lamberra blinked as one of the knights bowed at her.

  “You’re an honored guest tonight,” Lacey said, her voice light with amusement trying to Lamberra to crack a smile. Lamberra remained unphased, only offering a confused look toward Lacey.

  Lamberra focused on the towering structure ahead. A grand inn, its facade illuminated by warm lantern light. Even in the dim glow, the polished stone and gilded accents spoke of wealth she had only ever glimpsed from afar. Her throat tightened and thoughts leading her astray, she had never felt further from home.

  “Lacey… why are we here?” Lamberra’s voice barely rose above a whisper. The sheer opulence of the inn: the polished stone, the golden lantern glow, the quiet reverence that clung to every surface. It all felt suffocating.

  Simple.” Lacey’s grin widened into something mischievous. “This inn has everything! A kitchen, a bar, and a private room for us. The best part? It’s all free.” Lacey’s confidence was magnetic, a force that made everything feel effortless. For a moment, Lamberra forgot her unease. The knight from earlier was already inside, speaking quietly with the innkeeper. Lamberra barely noticed when he had slipped ahead of them, when the orders had been made, when everything had been arranged. Of course it had been.

  Lacey turned back to her, bright and unrestrained. “Order whatever you want,” she declared, laughing as if it were a game. “Because I’m getting everything!” The infectious joy in her voice tugged at Lamberra’s lips, forcing a smile she hadn’t expected to find tonight.

  She watched as Lacey approached the counter, her presence impossible to ignore. Moments later, a flurry of orders spilled from her lips. It really did seem like she was ordering the entire menu. Two bottles of wine joined the list, and Lamberra found herself marveling at how easily Lacey moved through this world. A world that seemed to bend to her will, the same world that barely acknowledged Lamberra’s existence. For tonight, she let herself bask in the glow of Lacey’s confidence, in the warmth of her laughter that cut through the shadows of doubt and weariness.

  “I think I’ll just steal some off your plate,” Lamberra teased, sliding closer with a smirk. She truthfully didn’t intend on ordering anything just due to the sheer amount Lacey had ordered. This was something Lacey knew and without missing a beat she addressed the innkeeper, “she’ll have your meat pie.”

  Lamberra’s eyes widened. “No, that’s too expensive! That pie’s over thirty crowns! I haven't even spent that in two months!” Her voice rose slightly, disbelief curling around each word. The extravagance of it made her stomach twist.

  “I told you, we don’t pay here,” Lacey’s voice was calm but carried an edge of authority. It wasn’t a debate. Lamberra hesitated. There was something different about Lacey now. Something sharper about her appearance. She stood taller, her posture refined, her tone slipping into a role Lamberra had never seen her play before even though they’d regularly seen one another for a couple years now. Was this just for appearances?

  “Please have everything brought to our room when it’s ready,” Lacey added, not waiting for another protest, starting up the stairs to their room.

  The innkeeper bowed slightly. “Of course, my lady.”

  Lamberra trailed behind Lacey up the creaking stairs, her mind swirling. Inside the private room, the luxury continued in quieter ways, modest by noble standards, but lavish to Lamberra. A single bed pushed against the far wall. A small table flanked by two chairs. A narrow window, just enough to let in the silver glow of the moon.

  “This is what passes for royalty?” Lamberra joked weakly, even though this was the nicest place she had ever been.

  “Meh, I’ve stayed worse. Especially when I’m traveling with my father,” Lacey shrugged as if the thought bored her. She waved a dismissive hand, brushing off any implication that the room wasn’t good enough. “This was last minute. I’m sure we could’ve gotten the best room if we’d had a bit more time.”

  “Oh my, Lacey, I was kidding.” Lamberra chuckled.

  Lacey smiled but didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to the knights still standing silently near the door. “You three, out. Let me know when the food and wine arrive.” The knights obeyed without hesitation, their heavy boots echoing down the hallway as they left. The room fell into a deep silence and everything felt smaller and much more intimate.

  Lacey strode toward the window, pushing it open. Crisp night air slipped inside, cutting through the warmth. Lamberra sank into one of the chairs, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her thoughts.

  “What’s wrong, sweet girl?” Lacey’s voice was softer now, her usual playfulness tempered by something quieter. As she passed behind Lamberra, her fingers brushed through her short, greasy hair.

  The casual affection caught Lamberra off guard which made her breath hitched. She blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears before they could betray her.

  “I’m just tired, Lacey. I told you already.” Lamberra stared at the worn wooden floor. The words felt small and inadequate. The tears blurred her vision despite her best efforts. Lamberra clenched her fists trying to stay composed. “What you’re doing is amazing,” she said after a long pause. “But… I can’t help feeling guilty about all of it.”

  Lacey crouched beside her, resting a warm hand on her knee. “The fact you feel guilty just proves how pure your heart is,” she murmured, her voice a soft balm against Lamberra’s frayed nerves. “But no one’s paying for this. Not me, not my father, and certainly not you.”

  Lacey tilted her head slightly. “Now tell me… why are you tired?”

  Lamberra felt Lacey’s gaze on her, warm but also intimidating. She knew it was impossible to avoid any longer. Slowly, she lifted her head, meeting Lacey’s golden eyes. They sparkled with a promise, one that made something in Lamberra’s heart finally give in to fully trust her.

  “You know, Lamberra, I respect you so much,” Lacey’s voice was soft, but the words hit Lamberra like a thrown rock.

  “Me?” Her voice cracked, disbelief overtaking her. “A dirty, greasy, broke girl from the slums? Someone who sleeps next to elves? You respect me?”

  “Of course I do,” Lacey didn’t hesitate, didn’t even blink. “You work tirelessly for your family. Not for yourself, but for Selma and Amara. That’s something worth respecting.” She paused, her gaze softening even further. “Though, I do wonder… do you feel respected? Do you feel loved?”

  The words hit deeper than Lamberra expected. Lamberra looked away, her shoulders hunching slightly. “No. They’re grateful. I know that,” she admitted, voice quieter now. The tension in her frame eased, if only a fraction. “I’m thankful for them too. But my mother’s getting older, and my sister…” She exhaled slowly. “She’s too innocent to grow up in the slums.”

  Before Lacey could respond, three sharp knocks echoed through the room. Lacey sprang to her feet, the usual spark returning to her expression. “Food’s here!” she announced, her tone light again. She opened the door to reveal three men balancing trays of food and bottles of wine.

  “Set the mains on the table and the rest on the bed,” Lacey instructed, stepping aside. The men moved quickly, their efficiency almost mechanical, and within moments, the room was filled with the rich aromas of freshly cooked dishes. As the last tray was placed and the door clicked shut behind them, Lacey turned back to Lamberra with a grin. “Now, where were we?”

  Lamberra didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she picked up a fork cutting into this large meat pie. The first bite was heaven. Rich, flavorful, a stark contrast to the bland, sparse meals she usually ate. She barely chewed before the words spilled out between mouthfuls.

  “I asked my mother if I could get a job at the castle,” she admitted. “Maybe help provide for the family.” Lacey tilted her head, intrigued. Lamberra continued, “but Mama… she shut it down immediately. Told me never to bring it up again. Was furious with me even.”

  Lamberra shook her head, her grip tightening on the fork. “She hasn’t yelled at me like that in years.” The tension lingered in the air, thick and unspoken as Lacey watched intently, her own plate untouched.

  Then, A slow, radiant smile spread across Lacey’s face, as if she’d been waiting for this moment her entire life. “Miss Lamberra,” she announced with a delighted laugh, her voice carrying an infectious joy, “I officially welcome you into my service! I’ve been waiting so long for you to ask!”

  Lamberra’s stomach twisted and her heart sank. “No, Lacey. I can’t,” her voice was firm though doubt was creeping in. ““Every position there requires living in the castle. I won’t abandon my family.”

  Lacey waved a hand dismissively, tone as light as ever. “Easy. Your position won’t be live-in. You can go home whenever you like.”

  Frustration now clawed at Lamberra, “It’s at least an hour, maybe two, just walking back and forth every day. It’s not practical. And it wouldn’t be fair to the other maids—”

  “Who said anything about you being a maid?” Lacey’s voice cut through her objections effortlessly. “I said I welcome you into my service, not that you’d be scrubbing floors.”

  She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “I hate the word ‘servant.’ It makes it sound like slavery, and it’s nothing like that, but you’d be my personal servant.” Lacey paused, giving Lamberra a moment to think.

  “I’d only need you on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The days the castle is busiest. The rest of the time, you stay home. You can even leave if something comes up.” Lacey hadn’t touched her food. Her focus was unwavering as she studied Lamberra’s face waiting for a reaction. “So…I’ll see you on Monday then?”

  “I don’t know, Lacey. Maybe?” Lamberra’s words tumbled out, unsteady. Lamberra rubbed at her temples, her brow furrowed deep with worry, “can I think about it?”

  Lacey’s grin returned, her confidence undimmed, ‘“of course, silly. Take all the time you need.” Finally, she turned her attention to her meal, though her words still lingered in the space between them. “That’s it?” she asked, casually. “You just wanted to ask me for a job?”

  Lamberra froze, something about that comment made her snap on the inside. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling before she could stop them. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, each one sharp and shallow, as though her lungs couldn’t keep up with the emotions pouring from her. The scrape of Lacey’s chair against the floor was loud in the quiet room, and in an instant Lacey was by her side. She moved the trays of food, the wine glasses, and the untouched plates to the floor. Lacey cleared the bed with the same urgency she seemed to do everything else. Then, she knelt before Lamberra, her hands resting over her thigh.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Berra,” she whispered, voice steady and warm. “I don’t know what’s bothering you so much. To be completely honest I’m not sure if I’ll ever understand, but I know you’re strong. You’ve always been strong.” Lacey hesitated and her voice became softer. “You’re the reason I want to succeed my father and not let my brother take over.” There was a brief pause, but then, “I cleared the bed, would you like to lay down?”

  Lamberra blinked, shaking her head no as fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

  “I want to help people like you,” Lacey continued. “Those the nobility forget.” Lamberra’s hands covered her face, but she could still see Lacey’s earnest expression through the blur of tears.

  Lacey’s voice changed, slightly energetic now, “Do you remember that man?” She asked. “The one who tried to... hurt you the night we met?”

  Lamberra swallowed hard, “of course I do.”

  Lacey’s tone shifted, sharp and filled with quiet pride, ““Well, he’s still rotting in a prison cell. Even after two years.”

  Lamberra’s head snapped up, “Two years?” Her voice cracked with disbelief. “But... isn’t the usual punishment for something like that a severe beating or losing a hand?”

  “Not anymore,” Lacey smirked. Her golden eyes gleamed, her smile razor-sharp, “After witnessing it firsthand, I had my father change the law.” Lacey allowed silence to creep in before letting out the secret. “Now, you either rot in a cell forever or... become free, but only as a eunuch.”

  There was a brief silence, but then Lamberra snorted, finally snapping the soft tears. The absurdity of it all hit her like a slap, and before she knew it, laughter spilled from her lips. Soon after, they were both laughing loudly and unrestrained.

  “You’re sadistic,” Lamberra managed between gasps, wiping at her tear-streaked cheeks. Lacey smirked, slowly rising from her knelt position as she gently brushed stray strands of hair from Lamberra’s face.

  Lamberra exhaled, still catching her breath, before reaching forward. It was hesitant at first, then surer. With a light touch, she tucked a loose strand of copper behind Lacey’s ear. The first time Lamberra ever did such a thing.

  For a moment, Lacey stilled, but you could see something dancing within her golden eyes.

  “You’re dangerous, Everknight,” Lamberra murmured, the words carrying a teasing lilt but something else beneath them.

  “Only to those who deserve it,” Lacey said with a slight smirk. The room was quiet now, the weight of everything settling in the space between them. Lacey exhaled, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing her face before she smiled again, but this smile was something softer, something meant just for Lamberra.

  “Why are you so nice to me?” Lamberra asked her.

  “That’s a conversation for another time,” Lacey said, evading her question. “But,” she added, her expression unreadable, “if there’s anything I can do for you… I’ll do it.” The authority in her voice left no room for doubt and all Lamberra could do was nod.

  “Not to be rude,” Lacey mused, her golden eyes flicking over Lamberra’s disheveled state, “but this inn has a bathhouse. Would you like to try it?” She grinned, patting Lamberra’s greasy hair with playful amusement.

  Lamberra flushed, embarrassment heating her face. “I—”

  “Come on,” Lacey urged, already tugging at Lamberra’s hand. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Huh?” Lamberra blinked, startled. “We’ll be…naked?” The thought was ridiculous, yet the very idea sent a strange unease curling in her stomach. “That would be extremely disrespectful to you.”

  Lacey giggled, “Unless you’re planning to make fun of me or look at me with those lustful eyes, nothing is disrespectful,” and then a teasing pause, “Although… I wouldn’t mind one lustful look.

  Lamberra couldn’t force a response other than a slight choke from the air. Lacey smirked, knocking on the door to summon a knight. “Fetch fresh clothes from the castle,” she ordered. “And ensure the bathwater is piping hot.”

  Turning back to Lamberra, she added, voice light, but sharp, “While they’re on that, let’s finish eating. Maybe get a little tipsy. I still need my drink.” Lamberra followed her lead, feeling as though the playful suggestion carried the weight of a royal command. It’s always disrespectful to refuse anything ordered from the nobility.

  They ate. They drank. The conversation meandered: touching on the mundane, like the weather and distant lordships, before spiraling into whimsical musings about what they’d do if they had magic. Slowly, the tension eased and for a while Lamberra forgot about the bathhouse completely until a knock at the door reminded her.

  “Our clothes will be waiting in the changing room,” Lacey said, rising gracefully to her feet.

  “You mean the ones you ordered?”

  “Yes,” Lacey grinned. “You should keep yours. They don’t fit me anymore.” A protest hovered on Lamberra’s lips but died the moment she really looked at Lacey. The difference between them had never felt so stark. Lamberra had always been slight. Narrow limbs, a waist that disappeared under layers of fabric, a chest so small she could pass as a small girl if not for the delicate features of her face. But Lacey, commanding, poised, at ease in her own body. Curves in all the correct places, she could marry a king. Lamberra felt like a shadow standing beside the sun when she compared herself to Lacey.

  The scent of lavender and steaming water enveloped them as they stepped into the bathhouse. Guards stationed themselves outside the thick wooden door, ensuring privacy. Lamberra exhaled slowly, taking in the sheer luxury of it all.

  “It must be strange,” Lamberra murmured, glancing at the heavy door that shielded them from the knights. “Having so much protection all the time. I think I’d go mad if I never got a moment to myself.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Lacey replied, struggling with the ties of her gown. “My room at the castle is secure enough that no one guards the door. That’s where I can breathe.”

  Lamberra smirked as she watched Lacey wrestle with the stubborn fabric.

  “Here let me help.” Lacey sighed dramatically, shifting her thick bronze hair aside, exposing the graceful arch of her neck. The movement was unconscious and trusting. Lamberra hesitated, then, in one smooth motion, she undid the clasp of Lacey’s gown. The fabric slipped over Lacey’s shoulders like water spilling over smooth stones, pooling at her feet.

  “Oh!” Lamberra’s breath caught, she spun away, hands flying to her face. “I—I’m so sorry, my lady! I didn’t mean to—”

  “Shut up, Berra,” Lacey interrupted, grinning. “Can I call you that?” Lacey continued. “I did earlier, and you didn’t seem to mind. Is it okay?” Lacey easily changed the subject and steered the moment away from Lamberra’s spiraling thoughts.

  The heat in Lamberra’s face burned even brighter. “Of course,” she stammered. “You can call me whatever you like.” Her heart pounded against her ribs, each beat loud, impossible to ignore.

  “Good,” she said simply. “You’re Berra to me now,” Lacey’s smirk turned into a genuine smile. She stepped into the steaming bath, sighing as the heat wrapped around her body. “Now hurry up. The water won’t stay warm forever.”

  Lamberra finally stepped in, trying to calm her relentless heartbeat. When she dared to glance up, she found Lacey watching her, unflinching.

  “My, my,” Lacey mused, admiration coloring her tone. “You’re beautiful.”

  Lamberra’s hands instinctively rose to shield her chest, her hips. A useless attempt at modesty. Lamberra opened her mouth to deny it, to argue, to call it nonsense.

  “What’s that scar?” Lacey’s eyes traced the jagged line running down Lamberra’s side.

  Lamberra froze. The old wound stirred memories she preferred to keep buried. However, Lacey’s curiosity wasn’t prying. It was patient and genuine. Lamberra finally exhaled, sinking lower into the water.

  “When I was a child,” she murmured, voice quieter now, “I fell into a ravine while playing with some elven children. A rock sliced me open from my chest to my hip. They ran for help, but by the time they returned, I was lying in a pool of my own blood… and the wound had already healed.”

  Lacey rose from the bath, completely unashamed, and moved closer, examining the scar.

  “Healing magic...” she whispered, almost to herself.

  Lamberra shook her head, a dry laugh escaping her lips. “No, it couldn’t be. Elves are the only ones who can do that.”

  Lacey looked away returning to her original spot.

  “It’s probably just a story Mama made up to scare me into being more careful,” Lamberra said.

  “Perhaps,” Lacey replied, her tone unreadable.

  They bathed in silence for a while and the tension slowly dissipated.

  It was Lacey who finally spoke, ““I really hope you choose to become my personal servant, Berra. Truly.”

  Lamberra blinked, caught off guard. “Why?” she asked, disbelieving. “I’m just an unimportant girl from the slums. I don’t know why you even like me.”

  Lacey’s smile faltered and her gaze went to the rippling water. “Because I’m tired of being alone,” she admitted. Her voice was softer now, vulnerable in a way Lamberra had never heard.

  “My family… they’re grooming my younger brother to inherit everything because he is a man, and they’re trying to marry me off to some powerful lord on the opposite end of the kingdom. I’m fighting it, but it’s creating rifts between us.” Lacey exhaled, slow and heavy. “You think I have everything, but you don’t understand. I feel like a pawn, not a person.”

  Lamberra hesitated, but moved closer. The water lapped gently at their arms, their knees almost touching.

  “I’m lonely too,” she admitted, voice low. “It’s just me, Mama, and Amara.”

  Lacey offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “It’s nice to hear that,” this was the only thing Lacey could say.

  For the first time, Lamberra saw the true Lacey. Not just the noble, the untouchable, the flame. But the girl beneath it all.

  Not much was said afterwards, and once they were finished bathing they put on the clothes brought from the castle. Lamberra ran her fingers over the gown’s fabric, letting its softness sink into her skin. It was burnt orange swirled with midnight purple, like a sunset over the Siburg River. It felt like something from another life and it was a glimpse into a world she’d never touched until now.

  “This is the cleanest I’ve felt in years,” she murmured, turning slightly, testing how the fabric moved with her. It didn’t hang stiff like her usual clothes. She combed her fingers through her damp hair, feeling it free from grease and dirt.

  Lamberra’s throat tightened, “Thank you,” she added, quieter now. “For helping me feel... anew.”

  Lacey smiled, but something in her eyes flickered. It looked like a shadow, fleeting, but unmistakable. She didn’t voice it, but Lamberra could feel it in the silence between them.

  Lacey tilted her head with a small, genuine smile. “You deserve to feel human, Berra. Everyone does.”

  They walked side by side back to the room with a knight leading the way, his heavy boots echoing against the wooden floor, while another followed behind. The once lively inn had grown eerily quiet. The presence of nobility did that. Lamberra had seen it before the way common folk became ghosts in the presence of someone powerful. Lamberra wasn’t sure she liked it, but it’s what always happened when she was around Lacey.

  When they reached their small room, one knight remained stationed by the door, his back straight, his gaze sharp. Lacey barely glanced at him before speaking, the natural authority in her voice impossible to ignore.

  “Inform the commanding officer that we’ll be staying the night here. Ensure the rotations are handled properly.”

  The knight nodded sharply. “At once, Lady Everknight.” Then he disappeared down the stairs, his crimson cloak sweeping behind him.

  “What was that about?” Lamberra said, tilting her head.

  Lacey shrugged, but her expression hardened slightly. “It’s my duty. If they’re risking their lives for me, the least I can do is ensure they’re taken care of.”

  Lamberra smirked. “See? You’ve got a good heart in there somewhere.”

  “More or less,” Lacey replied, brushing her hair back with an air of indifference.

  The room felt smaller than before. Perhaps it was the wine and cheese spread laid out on the table, or the fact that, for the first time, Lamberra didn’t want to leave. Two bottles of red wine gleamed in the dim candlelight. Lacey grabbed one, pouring deep crimson liquid into two glasses with practiced ease.

  “Now it’s time for multiple drinks,” she said with a soft giggle, but the laughter faded quickly. Lacey’s gaze shifted as a quiet sigh left her lips as she stared out the window looking at the slight moonlight.

  Lamberra watched her carefully. “Something’s bothering you.”

  Lacey hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the glass. “A lot, actually. But I wouldn’t want to trouble you with it.”

  Lamberra stepped closer, “try.” This time, Lamberra commanded her.

  Lacey turned, slightly taken aback from Lamberra’s demeanor.

  “I’m a good listener,” Lamberra continued. “You listened to me. I may not be politically inclined, but you’ll always get my unbiased opinion.”

  For a moment, Lacey weighed the offer. Then she exhaled, her golden eyes scanning the darkness outside. “King Thornewood is visiting soon,” Lacey’s voice was quieter now, sharp edges dulled by weariness.

  “Within the year?” Lamberra asked.

  She swirled the wine in her glass absently, nodding her head yes. “He’s coming to meet my father. Remember about me marrying some lord? Well, actually I’m to marry his son. The prince. The stupid King's son.”

  All Lamberra could do was blinked. The weight of the words settled like a stone in her stomach. “Wouldn’t that mean…” Lamberra hesitated, then finished, “you’d leave for Stormhaven? The capital?”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” she said flatly. “I’ll find a way to stop this.”

  Lamberra believed her oddly enough. The one good thing about being poor is having the choice to say no, but not so much in nobility.

  “Well,” Lamberra said finally, raising her glass with a lopsided grin, “sounds like these next few months will be... interesting.” Lacey laughed softly, clinking her glass against Lamberra’s drinking to the statement.

  For a little while, the conversation drifted. Childhood stories. Laughter. The wine made everything warmer and softer. At some point, Lamberra found herself lying on the bed beside Lacey, her stomach aching from laughing.

  “You know,” she murmured, the words slurring slightly, “I’m a bastard.”

  Lacey turned her head, blinking slowly, her expression caught somewhere between curiosity and concern. “I thought you told me your father died when we first met?”

  “I wish,” Lamberra said while snorting. A bitter laugh then escaped her lips. She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “He might be dead. Mama refuses to talk about him. With being a bastard I don’t have a surname. Just Lamberra.”

  “That’s... sad,” she murmured. “Your sister too?”

  “Amara too, and don’t you dare pity me,” Lamberra said quickly, though her voice cracked slightly. “Berra’s just fine, thank you very much,”Lamberra said with a smirk, trying to get Lacey to laugh.

  Lacey was quiet for a moment and then she spoke again, her tone uncharacteristically sincere. “I want you to know I think nothing less of you, okay?” She turned onto her side, her golden eyes steady and unwavering. “Bastard or not, you’re kind of remarkable.”

  “Remarkable,” she repeated, scoffing and shaking her head. “No, I’m just a girl from the slums, hoping for a better life.”

  Lacey rolled her eyes. “No,” she muttered.

  Lacey stretched her arms above her head, yawning slightly. “So, you’re a bastard, a possible healing magic user, and now you want to work at the castle.” Lacey was quiet for a second and let out a small chuckle, “You might be the most interesting person in the whole kingdom.”

  “Yes, no, and maybe! I have no special abilities whatsoever, but I am a bastard, and I would like to leave the slums one day,” Lamberra said laughing.

  A wave of tiredness hit both of them, heavy and sudden. As the night stretched on, the world outside faded into silence. You could barely hear the noises of Whitewash Alley as everything faded around them. Lamberra barely noticed when Lacey’s arm draped over her, it was a simple, absentminded motion. The breathing was steady and their warmth shared as sleep claimed both of them.