“Answers soon. We’re to rest here first, so you’ll be ready.” She waved Emma to the chairs.
Emma sank into one with relief. “You’re not afraid I’ll run away again?”
The Sister barked a laugh. “Did it do you any good to run, hmm? What did you learn out there?”
“I can’t be seen by mortals. They don’t hear me; they can’t remember me. After dark it seems easier, but—I’m still not like them. Not anymore.”
She told the Sister of the boar-headed monster that had hunted her. Of the emptiness she had felt, wandering the streets unseen.
“And with what you saw, do you want to run away again?”
“There’s nowhere for me to go, is there? My old life is gone.” As the words hung, trembling, in the air, Emma realized she could not take them back. Grief hit her with a force that made tears impossible. Crying would have been a relief. Instead, her eyes burned, dry as cracks in the savannah.
To her surprise, the Sister pulled her into a hug.
“I know what it is to be lost to the world, girl,” she whispered fiercely. “I’ll not tell you to forget your mortal life all at once. I’ve not managed it. But you must start again. You cannot spend your life yearning for what is gone.”
Emma gave way to sobs at last: ugly, body-wracking ones. TheSister stroked her hair and made gruff soothing noises. “So you met one of the Boars, did you? Seems extreme to send one after you for a simple summons. But nothing is simple these days, I suppose.”
“What are they?”
“When the City’s laws are broken, the Boars are sent after the offenders. May you never spend time in their cells, girl.”
It had not been civic duty that made the thing’s cruel eyes light up. It had wanted to hurt her. The fact it had an official role made the bile rise in her throat. What kind of place was this City, having predators as lawkeepers?
A squat figure in an apron bumped the door open. Her cheeks had the moist green-brown spotting of a frog. “So that one’s for the Oath? You be sure she’s ready. They’ll be sending for her soon.”
The frog-servant spun on her heel. She let the door bang behind her.
“Calling you now?” the Sister growled. “Oh, that’s the Court for you.Theycan spend two hundred years of their immortal lives composing an ode to the moss beneath a toadstool, butthisthey want done immediately. We need more time…”
“Calling me for what?”
“The Oath. A swearing-in ritual of sorts, now that you’ve chosen a house.” The Sister’s mouth twisted, as though she would have said more but had stopped herself.
“My house.” Emma uncurled her palm. The fox claw was gone, though a trace of its warmth lingered on her skin. “The House of Foxes. I chose it.”
“A house I know well.” There was affection in the Sister’s voice. “My brother and I have plenty of dealings with the fox maidens. I should think you’ll like them.” She pulled writing materials fromher belt-purse and dashed off a note. “I shall send my brother to bring them, since you’ll need sponsors for your Oath.”
She winced as she rose to hand the note to a servant outside the door.
“This Oath.” Emma pictured a knife slicing her palm. A brand pressed to her flesh. Fear curled in her belly. “Do I have to?”
“Your house cannot take you in, not until you are sworn to the City. Once you take the Oath, you are a citizen and protected by the City. Those who do not, live the dregs of a life at the outskirts. Preyed upon by whatever monsters are off their leash that night. It’s no life, girl.”
A small foot nudged open the door. A diminutive creature blinked at them, one whose eyes were too large for her face and strangely far apart. The twitching velvety ears of a wild hare rose from her cap. “If you please, miss? I’m to see to you.”
Within moments she hauled in a steaming jug that dwarfed her. She steered Emma to the basin, peeled off her cloak, and tugged at Emma’s waistband with tiny paw-hands traced with puffs of fur. Emma squeaked.
“Don’t raise a fuss, miss, and let me take your clothes off proper. I have to get you scrubbed. You’ve half the muck of the streets on you, by the look of it.”
Emma submitted, and soon stood shivering behind the dressing screen. The servant dipped cloth after cloth into the basin and scrubbed Emma’s skin until it glowed. Emma looked down at her body.
It was her own, down to the last scar and freckle. But it was also new. The outlines of it were sharper, somehow. Her skin had a sheen to it. And her limbs felt loose in a way she didn’t recognize, as though she were made from a different material.
“So what is she?” the servant said.
“Fox maiden,” the Sister answered.
