She was, officially, free.
Or as free as anyone could be under the orders of the head of a Thole house.
Thiliel had made it clear she was to remain within the seat of House Nesh until further notice, for her protection, as she had phrased it, but Sonder wasn't sure that was the truth.
Maybe Thiliel just wanted to keep her close, under her thumb for a while longer.
Sonder stood near the window where warm sunlight spilled through. Sand drifted against the glass, soft as snow.
The new robe she'd been given was absurdly fine, woven from red silk that caught the light like oil on water.
The sigil of House Nesh had been sewn over her heart.
It might have been the most expensive thing she had ever worn. And it carried weight.
She was now the highest-ranking outsider in Gloam, ever.
"A gift," Thiliel had said. "A mark of your new standing."
House-friend of Nesh.
Lacuna found her sitting by the window that afternoon, gazing out across Gloam's red sprawl.
"You look like one of them," he said, dropping into the chair across from her, "or as much as someone can."
"I'm not allowed to leave," Sonder replied.
Lacuna laughed. "This is luxury. If I had your rank, I wouldn't want to leave."
They spent the rest of the day wandering through the seat. Lacuna told her about his new, though trivial, tasks as a low-ranking member, an errand-boy, or whatever anyone above him decided he was at the moment.
If anyone else needed him for something, Sonder could overrule them. Her orders, that Lacuna was to keep her company, ranked higher than most others, even above some Thole-born members of Nesh.
By the time the sky burned deep orange and began to yield the day to night, the courtyard lanterns were being lit one by one.
Sonder dismissed Lacuna. Just because they were friends didn't mean she could keep him there forever.
That was when Thiliel came to her.
The Lady was dressed in her formal robes, seemingly having returned to the seat only moments earlier. Her posture was perfect, her gravel-edged voice steady and composed. Almost… pleased.
"It is arranged," she said. "Tomorrow morning, at sunrise sharp, Grimalkin will grant you an audience."
Sonder blinked. "She agreed that quickly?"
Thiliel's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "Not exactly. But now that you bear the high sigil of Nesh, you outrank her in standing. She cannot refuse a request from you without cause."
Sonder stared. "So… I'm the one granting her an audience?"
"Technically, yes," Thiliel said, a faint amusement breaking through her composure. "Try not to abuse it."