Her younger sisters had said the same thing to her in the same sneering voice—and complained bitterly to their mother when the hem fell too long or too short because they insisted she should be able to hem something without wasting their time.

“Nevertheless,” Marian said, fighting to keep her voice respectful, “I would feel more confident about the length if I pin the dress while you’re wearing it.”

The silence that followed made Marian uneasy. A Black Widow was too dangerous a witch to antagonize, and Luthvian could do far more than hurt her body.

“They don’t work. You know that, don’t you?” Luthvian said.

“I don’t understand.” A ball of fear settled in her belly.

“The wings. They were damaged too severely. You’ll never fly again.”

The fear sharpened into pain. “No. Lady Angelline said—”

“Jaenelle is a decent Healer, but she has little knowledge or experience when it comes to Eyriens. I have both. And I’m telling you those are only for display now. You’ll never fly again. If you try, you’ll only end up damaging your back so badly you won’t be able to work enough to earn your keep, and then where will you be?” Luthvian’s voice softened. “You’d be better off having them removed. If they’re gone, you won’t be tempted to do something that would cripple you.”

No, Marian thought as tears filled her eyes. No!

“I can do it for you.” Luthvian’s voice was quiet and persuasive. “In a month, you won’t remember what it felt like to have them.”

“No!”

Luthvian’s voice turned cold. “Please yourself. But if you do something that makes you useless, don’t expect to remain here.”

She didn’t hear Luthvian walk away, but she heard the kitchen door close. She stayed outside for a long time, hunched over to try to ease the pain that twisted her up inside.

She’d hoped being in Kaeleer meant a promise at a new life, a better life. But nothing had changed for the better. If anything, the life ahead of her was worse than the one she’d left behind.

FIVE

FIVE