"I know." she said quietly. She still didn't understand why, but that was a conversation for another time.
The Woods Manor stood silently amidst the drifting snow, casting its long shadow upon the untouched white around them. Giovanni descended first and she hopped off the goat with his help - it was a ways off the ground and while the animal could be brought to kneel, it likely wouldn't get up again once it had sank into the earth. "I have the key," she rifled around the pockets in her skirt and then pulled it out victoriously before bustling towards the front door. "Be ready for anything."

The wall near the door rumbled. Pari drew away from it as, under her bewildered gaze, the wood compacted and hardened and grew gray and pocked. She'd turned it into... stone?
"Sorry," Roo cried from outside the door. "I didn't think water would be a good option, because then what would happen to the door? I don't want to touch a door covered in sigils. So I thought... this might be easier, it's still solid, you know. I can change it back... I think."

“I don’t know,” she murmured, pursing her lips. “We have a lot to catch up on…”

"Feo's fine," she confirmed, leaning towards him automatically. Years had passed between them, but it seemed they were still attuned to each other. She was too tired to fight the familiarity. "He tried to stop it, but he couldn't. I did. Barely. I don't know why or how, but... it's just another problem to tack onto the list. Anyways, Saskia's with him now, so..."

"Yeah..." she trailed off, then cleared her throat. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to move back for a while. I, uh..."

Pari's head whipped around and she glowered at him. "Are you seriously making fun of me right now? Listen, I'm not the one with a history of hooking up with friends."
"Sweetie, he's not making fun of you," Sparrow soothed, patting Pari's head. "It's just surprising, that's all."

Sparrow had been quietly bolstering herself to talk to the approaching group of acquaintances, who were headed for the food - she was a secondary objective, sure, but they would probably engage her in some sort of conversation, especially after her disappearance. Right? Everyone seemed curious.
But they crowded around the table instead. Sparrow stepped closer to the pillar as someone walked right past her without even a "hello", instead positioning themselves so that she faced their back. She closed her mouth, which had dropped open in anticipation of a greeting, and kept quiet. Kids from Kenneth Wellington could be ignorant, but they had never been outright... rude, before.
"I just couldn't believe it when Nicoleta told me," one of the girls said, snickering behind a cracker. Her voice was just loud enough for Sparrow, and surrounding company, to hear. This was so obviously some kind of performance, and Sparrow's stomach began to sink as she considered who the mark might be.
"It makes sense that she'd take liberties when she's known the prince for so long," one of the men - Filip, if Sparrow remembered correctly - stated. He'd been in one of her classes, long ago, and she was pretty sure she'd shared her notes with him. "But obviously, there's only so far you can go before people start to catch on."
"Honestly, throwing yourself at Kyros like that," the first girl scoffed, her eyes wandering over the spread. "She must have begged him... on her knees."

Blood rushed out of Sparrow's head and her hands, leaving her cold, dizzy.
"She told the prince she loved him; sounds like begging to me." Filip commented.
"Maybe if he'd gone through with it he could have written it off on his taxes. It would probably have counted as charity."
"How much do you think she would have cost?" one of the neighboring girls laughed, wrinkling her nose.
"Much less than you probably think. Honestly, it would make more sense for her to pay the prince for the opportunity. I mean, she did have to get him drunk for him to go through with it in the first place."
"That's so gross. Do you think he even knew what was going on when she kissed him?"
"We don't want rapists in our school, so it's a good thing she got kicked out of the palace." the first girl said, pressing a concerned hand to her chest. "Honestly, what did she think was going to happen? And now she's stuck in some third world country-- oh."

Their voices fell quiet as their attention turned to her. Though their expressions mimed embarrassment, their eyes were glittering with something else, hoping for a new thread to latch on to.
"Oh my god, Sparrow." Filip, who had been the one with his back to her, said mechanically. "We didn't see you there."
"I can't believe you came back." someone else said. Sparrow could barely hear them over the blood rushing through her ears; she clutched onto the pillar so that she stayed upright, because her legs had completely given out.

Someone approached her from the back. She could vaguely tell. Altair had taught her to be wary of what she might find when she turned around. At this very moment, if something had come up behind her from the dark, she would have let it take her. Whatever it would have done would be less horrifying, less inconceivable, than this conversation and all its implications. But a hand wrapped around her shoulders instead, pulling her close to a tall, willowy body. Black clothes, dark eyes. Mirza.
"There you are, best friend." he said loudly. Mirza was playing too, but he was bad at it -- not like these guys. "Our best friend, who has come home to celebrate Feofil and Parisa graduating, because she means so much to Pari, and she's also their... best friend. And also Kyros's best friend."
"Prince Mirza," someone said, but he held up a hand. "My best friend here doesn't seem to be doing so well. Sparrow, are you okay?"
She didn't reply. If she opened her mouth, she was going to puke.
"Yeah, she seems-- a little out of it, we're going to go somewhere else."
"Is that a good idea, Mirza?" one of them asked, voice dancing with the delight of new gossip.
"Why wouldn't it be?" he retaliated ferociously, and his tone was suddenly so cold, so cutting, that she could feel the sudden, heavy silence where there had been fervor not so long ago, growing at the signs of a new scene in their play. No one responded to him. She felt Mirza's chin against her head as he turned to swelter at each player, his pulse pounding in his throat. "Does someone have something to say? Maybe I should bring Kyros over here and you can explain it to him?"
"No," Filip replied quickly, "Not necessary at all, your majesty."
"Are you sure? He wouldn't mind, he's always eager to set a record straight."
"There's nothing to set straight," one of the girls assured him. "We were just asking Sparrow when she got back and what she's been up to -- maybe she's just not used to such good food anymore! That might be why she looks like... that."

Mirza ignored them. He turned her around, his width shielding her from the rest of the room, and carried her away as quickly and quietly as he could. It didn't go unnoticed; the world around them became quieter as they passed through. None of it mattered. Sparrow was boneless in his arms.
"Sparrow?" he said. "You're kind of freaking me out. Are you okay?"
Mirza had to wait for two guards to push the doors to the hall open. She recognized them from her time at the palace. They looked at her with dubious expressions, and the ground wobbled under her feet. Mirza held her up, hands tightening in alarm. Did they know what people were saying about her, too?
"Mirza," she whispered. "Let me go."
"I feel like you're going to fall down if I do that." he said. She might. She didn't care. She didn't want him touching her - anyone touching her - she didn't want to be led somewhere like a horse, fodder for later gossip. "Mirza," she said desperately as he brought her down a darker hallway, less populated. "You can't. If you do this, they're going to say that I-- that I--"
"Sparrow, shh." he said softly. "Let's talk about this inside, okay?"
He approached a door. She bucked against him, but his grip was too strong. "Sparrow," he fought her, eyes glancing out to the hallway. "Listen! It's just an empty room, I promise. There's nothing and no one in there."
"No! You can't-- don't do this--" she wailed, tears finally springing to her eyes. Mirza was starting to panic, but he was still doing a decent job of subverting her attempts to shove him off. "Hey," he soothed, strained, opening the door and gingerly pushing her inside as she blathered protests. "I can't be in here with you--" her heart was going to jump out of her throat, her words were harsh and heavy. "I can't be alone with you -- Mirza, stop it, get away from me--!"
"Sparrow, please calm down," he urged, latching the door shut with a final click and turning around to face her. Sparrow, who had been pushing at him, pushing at the door in a desperate attempt to escape, sprang away like he'd burnt her. She cowered on the other side of the room. "Sparrow," he hissed again, "People are going to think I'm doing something bad to you, can you please--"
But she'd gone white at his words, swaying like she might pass out right then and there. Mirza's alarm skyrocketed. "What are you -- are you gonna faint? Are you gonna puke? There's a bathroom, it's right over--" but before he could finish she'd already stumbled towards the door in question, throwing it open and then slamming it shut and then retching, the sound interspersed with sobs.
"Oh my god," Mirza muttered. He was not Feo. He didn't know what to do in this situation. Maybe he should -- go hold her hair? "Sparrow? I'm coming in."
"Don't!" she shrieked back, the sound loud and shattered enough to make him jump.

Roo stifled the urge to shake her head in disbelief. Though she'd been witness to his violence time and time again, it never failed to unnerve her. She was just glad she was on the safe side of this well of seemingly endless and unwavering brutality.
As Giovanni swung the demon around, smashing its head against the wall opposite to the bannister, Roo scurried up the now-clear stairs and made her way down the hall, accompanied by the sounds of otherworldly shrieking and indiscriminate walloping below. The princess's room was denoted by an entire series of protection sigils that had been carved along the grain of the wood, too subtle for most to notice. She rapped her hand against it and called, "Feofil, Princess Tyrneamitore?"

Pari had wadded up one of her silk scarves and was helping Feo hold it to his bleeding nose when a voice echoed from beyond the door. She turned to look at it, then back to Feofil, raising her eyebrows.

Pari discarded the silk offal on the ground. She'd wiped most of the blood on her hands into her voluminous skirts - it melded with the velvet - but her palms still felt sticky and cold. She wondered if the feeling would ever go away or if every time she looked down, she'd see dark streaks splashed across her pale skin.

Roo was standing on the other side, gazing towards the stairs, where a screech cut through the air before being silenced by an unholy crash. She turned to look at Feofil, then Pari, who straggled behind him. "We need to go," she said again. "Giovanni will take care of it."
"Giovanni?" Pari asked numbly. "The baker guy?"
"Um... yes."

"Outside," she said. "Better than in here, for now. Once Gio clears it out, I can ward the place again. More wards, stronger ones. I should have done that before..." now she seemed to be muttering to herself.
"Let me get a scarf," Pari exhaled, heading back into the room. Roo looked up, scrutinizing. "You said there were more guests in the house?"