Who would Ivy be if she had actually gone to sleep?

  Probably a proper, obedient person. But she couldn’t — sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed and turned, genuinely trying, but it didn’t work.Or maybe she didn’t want to — as usual.

  Everything seemed unimportant when she stopped in front of that very one-story building shaped like a right angle. Her hand, clenched into a fist, came down on the door several times, producing a knock, but it was as if she couldn’t hear it herself. Her rich brown eyes looked like dark glass that light never reached.

  She stood there without a sheath. Her only dagger was left on a pillow in Iran’s cozy home. What did it matter now, even if someone wanted her gone? Once she’d started, she had to repay the debt. If it didn’t work out here — she’d rot, just as she should have long ago.

  No sound came from behind the door. Only the townsfolk moving along the street filled the air with noise.

  ?Fair enough. Should’ve walked even slower? — Ivy thought.

  She sat down a little away from the door, right on the ground, leaning her back against the wall, and lazily knocked once more. Without hope — just a knock. Her body no longer wanted to move anywhere. Sleeping under the open sky wasn’t new to her. The peasant woman closed her tired eyes and folded her hands on her knees.

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  How many times could she be wrong? Just this morning she had everything: a roof over her head, food, a bed, and a sweet, caring elf by her side. But she’d been stubborn — and now she sat here with nothing. Just her clothes, her body, and a deep heaviness, hatred coiled inside.

  Her fist snapped forward in irritation, striking the door and making even more noise than before. How stupid. Just drawing attention. But who here would care about a human woman anyway? Before, only Iran did. And now — no one.

  The door creaked open, and an irritated female voice came from inside:

  — You planning to knock someone in the head?!

  The face of a young elven woman appeared in the doorway, looking about fifty by elven standards. Short, sun-colored hair seemed to search for whoever had been knocking. Gray eyes quickly found the peasant girl by the door.

  — Was that you banging around here? Got nothing better to do? What’s so hard about just coming in? Was it really necessary to smash the damn door to make everything harder and get your ass kicked by life?!

  Ivy blinked, lifting her gaze to the woman. She was surprised — she truly hadn’t even thought to try pushing the door. Idiot. Deserved it. Smiling faintly but sincerely, she stood up and lazily brushed herself off.

  — I’m already used to getting my ass kicked. I’d be happy if you just beat me with your feet right now, — the peasant woman sighed, regretting that she couldn’t even cry anymore. She’d cried it all out back when Iran left. It surged up inside her — like a spoiled child whose favorite toy had been taken away. — Sorry for waking you, milady. I wanted to be polite. Turned out the usual way.

  The elf woman was a head and a half taller. Only now did she realize she was dealing with a human. She looked Ivy over, took in her battered appearance, and gave a proud snort, still showing only her head from the doorway.

  — You’re not from here, — the pointy-eared woman said, a bit more politely. — What do you want? Who are you, and why did you come? And don’t play the victim. I can’t stand whiny bastards.