Perry finished his story about Inconsiderate and set the quill in its stand, letting the ink dry before closing his journal. He had seen past her mask—into her heart. The Author would never see her as just Inconsiderate again. He didn’t fully understand how dancing and speaking with her had changed her. But he trusted the Author.
His room was small and held only what he needed: a table for writing, and a bed for sleeping. He slid his chair back and stood. He leaned over to blow out the candle when a knock sounded at the door. Soft. But not timid.
A woman stood in front of his door. She wore a woolen dress—plain, patched in several places. Her cheeks were pale, untouched by paint. Her hair was parted simply, tucked into an olive-green head scarf.
No scent of perfume.
No mask.
Perry didn’t recognize her.
“Perry… it’s me,” she said.
“Evadne?” he blinked. Her steel-gray eyes were the same.
“Please,” she said softly, “call me Eva.”
“I’d like you to walk with me,” she said. “Not far.”
She turned and started walking—not looking back. “Please come,” she added. “I won’t ask twice.”
Perry slung his satchel over one shoulder and grabbed his staff.
The first strike echoed off the cobblestone—sharp, sudden in the hush of the city. He hurried after her.
No one walked the streets but the occasional watchman—silhouettes in the dim, oily light of the city’s lamps.
Eva led him across the bridge and down a narrow alley toward the tannery. The stench was overpowering. Not even the rats came here. At the far end, a postern gate sat in the back wall held shut by a single rusted bar. It swung open without resistance.
The gate opened beyond the walls of the City of Destruction to a narrow path along the River of Confusion. The reeds stood tall at the banks. Mist lay low across the ground. No one walked here at night.
With the city behind them, Eva spoke at last. “There’s something I’ve never shown anyone. Not even when I believed I had friends.” She reached into the sleeve of her dress and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. “This was left for me. Years ago.”
She opened it. The parchment was faded, smudged with age. In the dim light of the city, Perry could barely make out the words. It simply read:
You were not made for this place.
She gazed across the river, toward the road that slipped past trees into the Town of Stupidity.
“I want to believe it was real,” she said. “That someone saw me. That someone meant it.”
Perry caught his breath when he saw her glance toward the town. Stupidity was no place for a woman like her. But then he remembered what she’d said about dueling. She probably had a dagger up her sleeve. Or two. Maybe even three, he thought wryly.
He was thankful he’d brought his staff. It wasn’t a sword, but in his hands, it was still a weapon. And whatever she meant to show him; he was determined to see it through.
“Lead on, Eva,” he said. The name felt right. “Tonight… we’ll uncover your mystery.”
She led on, skirting the River of Confusion. The reeds grew thicker. The path narrowed, but she walked with unhesitating familiarity. At one point, she stepped over a fallen log with practiced grace. This was not her first time here.
The moon was pale, caught behind a thin cloud. Its light rippled on the water like silver veins in stone. Finally, she stopped. They had come to an abandoned ferry landing—just a warped stone pier, worn by time and tide. The ferry was gone. Only the chain remained, half-buried in the mud, stretching out into the darkness where the current ran deep.
Eva turned to face him. “You asked me what answers I needed.” She looked toward the water. “This is where I come… when I remember the ones I don’t want.”
She knelt at the edge of the stones and dipped her fingers into the water. A moment later, she pulled out something wrapped in oilskin. Without looking at him, she placed it gently into Perry’s hands.
“I was engaged once,” she said. “To a man from Carnal Policy.” She looked down at the bundle. “I’ve kept this for years. Letters. Promises. Seals with his family crest.” Her voice turned quiet. “He never lied… not exactly. He just never meant to build anything true.”
She stood again—somehow taller, for having spoken it. “I thought I could change him,” she said. “I thought I could be enough to make him want to become someone else. She hesitated. “Instead… I became someone else.”
“That was how Madame Wanton was born.” She paused. “I don’t want her anymore, Perry.” She looked at the oilskin bundle in his hands. “Burn it. Or keep it. Or throw it in the river. But don’t give it back to me.”
She turned away, facing the mist-covered fields. “I want to remember…” Her voice was quiet. “…who I was, before I needed a mask.”
“I’ll hold it for you,” he said. “Unopened.” He stood for a long moment, unsure what to say. There was more. She could have told him this while they danced. Or handed him the bundle tomorrow. But she had brought him here. “You didn’t bring me here for this.” The parchment. Of course. “What can I do for you, my dearest?” he asked at last.
She stood a long while, staring at him. Weighing. Finally, she spoke, softer than before. “It wasn’t written in his hand.” She glanced at the river. “The letter. The one that said I wasn’t made for this place.” Her voice barely above a whisper, “It wasn’t written by him.”
“It was sealed…” she caught her breath “with the mark of the King!”
She turned toward Perry. There was nothing left of the party in her face.
No coquetry.
No calculation.
Only Eva.
“But the mark was broken. The message smeared.” She looked down, voice unsteady. “I’ve carried it for years wondering if it was real, or if it was a mistake. If the King meant it for someone else. Or if someone forged it…to draw me away from the path I was meant to take.”
Her voice firmed, resolve rising like a tide. “I don’t care anymore who it was meant for.” She looked at Perry
“I’ve decided. It’s mine.”
A breath. “Perry… I want to leave the City.” A beat. “But I don’t want to walk alone.” She said it plainly. Without hope. Without despair. Just the truth.
She continued, “I don’t know what you’re looking for. But if you’re going anywhere… I want to walk beside you. Until you send me away.”
Then she added, almost lightly, “Unless you still think I have too many daggers.”
***
The Author sat in stunned silence, his pen trembling in hand. When he’d sent Perry into the Dream, he’d prepared for detours.
But he had not prepared for her.
Not like this.
