Free Dralin by John H. Carroll

stood as Mary departed for the kitchen. Sheela
and Frath also stood, and then followed her out of the room, into a
hallway and toward the back of the house.
    The conservatory was a large room made
primarily out of greenish glass panels. Sheela looked around in
awe. Even though Frath had been in the room before, he still felt
overwhelmed by it. Glass was rare, owned by those who were well
off. Only the wealthy built conservatories as large as Lady
Pallon’s. Plants were everywhere, many with beautiful flowers in
contrast to winter moisture outside.
    She led them to a sitting area at the far
end of the room where they could look outside. There was another
pond in the vast back yard in addition to more willows, rosebushes
and other large trees. Frath knew there were other buildings, of
which only one was visible from where they sat. He also knew a
couple of them led underground to some of the secret areas of the
city, but had never shared that information with anyone.
    “So tell us about you, dear,” Lady Pallon
said to Sheela after sitting. There was a small wrought iron table
in the middle with a glass top. The chair Lady Pallon sat in was
wrought iron with a plush cushion. Frath was happy that there was a
double seat across from the chair for him and Sheela to sit on. He
unhooked his sword and set it on a side table in order to sit
comfortably.
    Sheela paled and began wringing her hands in
her lap. Frath held her a little tighter. Lady Pallon became
concerned. “I can see how upset you are, child. Sometimes talking
about the things that upset you helps. You’re with friends.”
    Frath leaned in to look Sheela in the eyes,
she returned the look reluctantly and he could see that tears were
already welling there. “I love you and there’s nothing you can tell
me that will stop my love.”
    The tears broke through and she buried her
face in his chest again. After just a moment, she leaned back. “Do
you ever take that thing off?” she asked, tugging on the chain
shirt peaking under his collar.
    “Only when I’m in the barracks. Outside of
them, I’m required to wear it at all times.” He took one of her
hands in his free one.
    “It’s uncomfortable to rest my head
against.” When neither he nor Lady Pallon responded, Sheela sighed
deeply. “I ran away from home.”
    “I remember you telling me that. What
happened?” Frath asked encouragingly.
    “I . . . I . . .” Her jaw clenched and she
gripped his hand tightly.
    “Start from the beginning if you can,” Lady
Pallon suggested. “Where were you raised?”
    Sheela nodded. “I was raised on a small farm
a few week’s walk to the southeast of here. I never went anywhere
until the day my mother lost the farm.” She took a deep breath to
strengthen her resolve. “My father left my mother when I was five.
There were three of us daughters, both sons died in childbirth. He
didn’t want daughters and life was hard on the farm, so he just
left. My mother struggled to care for us, spending most of her time
in the fields and the rest working on the household chores, which
she wasn’t very good at. At night she would collapse,
exhausted.”
    Mary brought tea and pastries made with
apples. Sheela poked at the pastry with her fork while talking. “My
younger sister died when she was only a few years old. My older
sister thought it was her fault and killed herself a year later
while my mother was out in the fields.” Sheela’s voice gradually
became hollow as she told of the horrifying hardships she had
experienced. She set the fork down and put her hands back in her
lap.
    Frath rubbed her shoulder and arm in an
attempt to flow strength and support to her. Lady Pallon smiled
supportively. “Go on, you’re doing wonderfully. Tell us what
happened, it will help heal your heart.”
    “My mother spent the next few years in her
bed while I did just enough to care for us. The tax collectors took
everything we had before kicking us out of our house.” Sheela
stopped,