The nights settle into easy routine. I wake, brake my fast with the Immortal Lord, then lessons with Ceres and Myorla, mid-night meal and more lessons.
Despite my loud protests and lack of interest, Mistress Bryerne accosts me at random intervals with patterns, thread and material.
I never imagined my life would turn out to be this.
After our breakfast dishes are cleared the Immoral Lord says, "This early night Myorla and Ceres shall not be returning."
"W-Why?"
"From this night and henceforth I will be teaching you."
"T-T-Teaching m-me?"
"Yes. I will be teaching you Tiygressian."
"W-Why?" Apparently, it's the only word I can enunciate.
Beyond the required flickers, I am mortified at spending any more.
"Myorla and Ceres do not have the spare flickers to teach and they have other duties." The Immortal Lord explains.
My heart flutters like leaves in a maelstrom.
