{4}
The KeySantha woke with a start. Oh, s**t.
She leapt out of bed, washed her neck and face at the bedside basin, and slid a freshly pressed dress over her petticoat. Rinsing her mouth with water, she let it slide down her parched throat and looked at herself in the gilded wall-mounted mirror. Dandon’s going to string me up this time, she thought, and attempted to smooth her hair. A pointless endeavour.
Weekly folklore classes. It was the only condition of her staying at Dandon’s school, and still she was late. Not even living five doors down from the classroom had saved her.
She gathered her study materials into her basket—a book titled The Ways of Fae (written by an old man who had never performed a hard day’s labour in his life, undoubtedly), along with a scroll of an unfinished r
