She held a slender fingertip over the tiny opening of the vial, and tipped it sideways. The looking-glass over the dresser was far superior to the one at home, and as she leaned towards it, the pattern of the bruise was alarmingly clear. No longer an angry mosaic of black and purple, the skin was now spotted with red blotches, their edges faded. The finger dabbed lightly over the splotched flesh, and she felt a keen relief when it did not hurt nearly as much as it had. The freakish swelling around her eye had also receded, and she reminded herself inwardly to thank the man when she next saw him. A few, simple curtains didn't seem to be enough gratitude for giving a woman her face back.
Her eyes moved to the small, wooden box sitting at hand upon the dresser. It had been no easy feat, sneaking back into the house when Emory was out, leaving the letter that Zeylheim had penned for her, and grabbing what few possessions she owned. She had moved about as quickly as she could, but it felt fearfully slow, her hobbling gait hindering every step. How fiercely her heart had pounded as she tried to hurry back out in the sunshine, praying she would not see her brother coming along the alley!
The same finger now moved over the box's lid, absently tracing the miniature edges of the mountain scene Zeyl had etched into the wood. Her stomach ached, but it was not hunger that twisted her innards. It was time to make some decisions, and she was afraid. Guilt had been gnawing softly and steadily at her gut. No matter how many times she repeated the comforting words of others to herself - that she had "done the right thing" - the feeling would not relent.
With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes, and her shoulders drooped. The man needed an answer. Kindness had been extended, and it would not do to ignore it. The curtains would not sew themselves, she needed to return to the apothecary and fetch the cloth. It was a new feeling, to have places to go, people to bargain with, choices to make. It was heady, strange, and a little frightening.
But it was better than the alternative.
