Pela already missed the lush rainforest of her home in southern Aldeph. The air of Galena tasted like sulfur and ash to a palate used to the sun and salt of the ocean. Don't be thrums, she mentally scolded herself. Think of this as the grand responsibility it is. Appreciate your good fortune! At least it isn't somewhere frigid...

So Pela affixed a smile on her face and smoothed her skirts, her bangles and beads clicking softly against one another with the motion. She'd worn her best attire, but next to the nobles' finery it still looked inadequate and simplistic. She pretended not to overhear the term provincial tittered about as a few of them passed by.

Her fingertips itched, fleetingly tempted to call up a ward line at perfect tripping height in front of the feet belonging to that snooty voice. But she kept her hands still. Causing a ruckus here and now wouldn't get her sent back to Aldeph, it would probably get her sent to the dungeon. Pela could only hope against all evidence that the Crown merely needed a temporary ward-witch, and not a permanent position to be filled.

The door down the hall opened, and Pela stood from the bench quickly, giving her layered skirts a hurried brush down.