Susan's attic was small and dark.
A little bed took up most of the room. A small table crowded together in the corner with a narrow old wooden chest. The chest was stuffed with almost all of Susan's private possessions: a pair of underwear, a day dress, and a small basket of tools.
Shadow stood in the middle of the room, dark cloaks wrapped around his body, dim oil lamp flame waving behind him, yet unable to break up the darkness before him.
That's another reason Susan hated Shadow. Even when they met every night, she didn't really see his face.
Once, while practicing her royal curtsey, she pretended to trip over in front of him and almost pulled his hood off. Still, he dodged away as quick as lightning, then laughed at her stupidity.
Susan had been holding a grudge about it for a long time.
