The Art of Folding

There was no cake. The usual tea set had been laid out, fine china and silver spoons on the delicate lace table cloth, but no cake accompanied it, and frustration curled, hot and unpleasant, in Mary's stomach. She wasn't even hungry, she didn't particularly want to have cake right in that instant, but it's absence was yet more proof that her mother was the one pulling the strings of this entire operation, and she hated it.

The young man sat opposite her didn't notice her distress, of course. Part of her wanted to think less of him for it, but then, she could hardly blame him for not seeing something that she was so good at keeping hidden. It wasn't his fault. He was blandly handsome and vaguely charming, poised and well-groomed and so far from anything that Mary wanted that it was almost laughable.

Relief was all she could summon as she watched him leave. As the door swung shut behind him, she shut her eyes, fighting down the irritating urge to find a dark corner somewhere to weep, like she had suddenly slipped into the mind of a fairy-tale damsel. Pull yourself together, she thought sternly.

Two months, this had been going on. An endless parade of eligible young gentlemen being sat in front of her, making stilted small talk about the same three subjects. None of them were offensive, none of them were rude, and none of them were at all what she considered to be husband material.

She wanted to get married, was the thing. Ever since she was a child, she had dreamed of having that kind of connection with someone, a partner in crime, an ally against the world, a - if she was very lucky - true love. But now, trapped in the drawing room week after week under the beady eyes of her oppressively-hovering mother, the sad reality of her situation was beginning to sink in.

Any match that she made would have to be approved of by her parents (by which, of course, she meant her mother), and the chances of that happening with anyone who she actually liked were slim-to-none. The truly galling thing is that every suitor whom she had met so far could have been interesting and likable, but Mary would never know because they never had the opportunity to discuss anything more controversial than the weather.

"What a charming young man," Her mother said primly, closing the book she had been pretending to read. "What did you think of him, dear?"

Mary pasted on her sweetest smile. "He was perfectly lovely, Mother, from what I could gather in half an hour of pleasantries."

"Indeed," Lady Kirston's nostrils flared the slightest amount, the only sign of displeasure that she allowed herself. "Would you like me to invite him back?"

"Do what you like, Mother," Mary said tiredly. "We both know that my wishes count for very little in this." She stood, brushing down her skirts. "I have a new dress waiting for me at Foldings, I should retrieve it this afternoon. Would you like to accompany me?"

Lady Kirston thinned her lips, clearly unhappy, and thankfully declined. "No dear, I dislike visiting that shop. I should attend to your father. He shall be needing my assistance with the accounts." Mary nodded in acquiescence and swept out, relieved that for once her mother had not decided to chastise her.

The familiar blue sign over Foldings and Fittings was a homing beacon, promising Mary sanctuary and sympathy, and she hastened towards it. The wooden panel in the window tarred her already dark mood, and she scowled at it, reminded at once that her friend had a far greater problem than she.

If another attack on her friend had happened since the first, Mary had not heard of it, and since seeing Rhys' reluctance to tell her about the first one, she had endeavored to keep her ears open, asking the servants if they had heard anything while in town. So far, they had reported nothing amiss, but Mary couldn't help but worry all the same.

The door swung open as she approached it, startling both her and the young man emerging through it with his arms stacked high with boxes. They both yelped, and his foot caught on the door step, tripping him up. Mary dove forwards, just managing to catch him by the shoulders and prevent disaster.

Shocked brown eyes met hers, staring out of a handsome, dark-skinned face topped with neat curls just long enough to fall fetchingly over his forehead. Mary blinked at him, then recovered and smiled flirtatiously.

"Should I use the obvious line about you falling for me?" She asked, batting her eyelashes at him. His eyes widened further and he backpedaled frantically through the still-open door, stuttering.

"No! No, thank you, I- I mean, not that you aren't - I mean, obviously you are, lovely, that is, it's just, I just - we don't -" He got faster and faster as he spoke, hands twitching where they gripped the boxes, like he would have waved them around if they hadn't already been occupied, and though it was hard to tell, Mary would have bet good money that he was blushing. She couldn't help it - she laughed.

"You're sweet," she told him genuinely. He stared at her.

"Um... Thank... you?"

"You're welcome. Maybe you should put those boxes down, though."

"What?" He looked down as if he had forgotten completely about his cargo. "Oh! Yes." He shuffled backwards, still eyeing her like she was some strange beast whose behavior he didn't yet understand.

"Ben! I told you not to worry about those things, honestly." Rhys appeared from the back room, grabbing the boxes from Ben and shoving them onto a shelf. Mary gasped, delighted.

"Oh! You're Ben! Of course, Rhys said you'd be coming." The only good news that she had received in ages. Part of her wanted to jump straight into interrogating him, but given his already skittish attitude towards her, that would most likely end in him turning tail and fleeing, so she settled for holding out a hand for him to shake.

"Mary Kirston, nice to finally meet you." If anything, the introduction seemed to inspire more alarm, Ben's eyebrows flying up as he threw a panicked glance at Rhys, who mostly just looked amused. For all of his apparent terror, though, his handshake was warm and firm and steady, and Mary was impressed despite herself.

Still, Rhys had said that Ben grew up in a merchant family - deal sealing handshakes were probably trained into him before he learned to walk.

"Nice to meet you too?" Ben replied. It came out sounding like a question and he winced. Mary crossed her arms and glared at Rhys.

"You've been telling tales about me, haven't you?" She demanded, trying very hard not to let a smile break out across her face and ruin her scowl.

"If by 'tales' you mean the truth," Rhys said airily, "then yes." She leaned back casually against the counter, clearly enjoying herself. Mary made an offended noise.

"I am an angel," She said haughtily, "And anyone who says otherwise is a dirty liar."

"We must know an awful lot of dirty liars then," Rhys snorted, and Ben finally stopped looking worried and grinned as well. Mary drew herself up, less impressively than she might have due to the way she could feel her mouth twitching.

"Lies and slander," She sniffed at them. "I expected better of you," She told Ben, who shrugged innocently. Rhys snickered and stood.

"You here for your dress?"

"That's the excuse I gave my mother, yes, so I suppose I ought to take it with me." Mary sighed, and Rhys pulled a sympathetic face.

"Husband hunting still not going well then?" She asked wryly, pulling a dress box down from one of the shelves.

"There is no hunting," Mary curled her lip. "There is my mother shoving already caught suitors under my nose and expecting me to somehow fall in love while she stands over us making disapproving noises if we stray from 'appropriate' topics of conversation."

"And I thought you sounded scary," Ben said, eyebrows raised. Mary beamed at him.

"Aw, you think I'm scary? That's so sweet. Rhys, why didn't you tell me that your friend was so sweet?"

"I was worried you'd eat him," Rhys said drolly. "Here you go." Taking the proffered box from Rhys and setting it on the little table by the door, Mary sighed.

"Thank you." She said morosely. "I'm sure it's perfect." Rhys gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"You know, you're always welcome here if you need a fast escape."

"I'll most likely need one if word gets back to my mother about your gentleman friend staying here," Mary teased. "She'd have an aneurysm. Ooh, that's an idea!" Perking up, she spun towards Ben, who flinched backwards. "How would you feel about being an accessory to assisted manslaughter?"

Ben looked horrified. "Uh... Very bad. Please don't do that to me." Somewhere behind her, Mary could hear Rhys wheezing with badly-suppressed laughter.

"That's a shame." She said, mildly disappointed. "Do tell me if you reconsider."

"I definitely will not do that," Ben told her, edging away. The wheezing got louder. "Rhys, why are you making friends with psychopaths? You realize that I'm the one who will have to tell your parents if you end up a fugitive from justice?"

Mary snorted derisively. "I wouldn't worry too much, Benjamin, the law up here is notoriously bad at catching criminals. Rhys' front window is proof of that."

As she spoke, Rhys' increasing laughter suddenly cut off, and she leaned into Mary's eye line, making tiny but frantic hand gestures indicating that she should stop talking.

"What?" Ben said. The room went silent. "What happened to your window?" Rhys glared at Mary, who winced.

"I'm sorry," she said guiltily. "I thought you would have told him."

"He only arrived yesterday!" Rhys hissed back.

"Told me what?" Ben demanded. He didn't look angry yet, but his brow was deeply furrowed.

"Someone took issue to having a magic user in town," Rhys replied, finally removing her poisonous gaze from Mary. "I got a lovely brick through the window of my shop."

It was greatly relieving, to see her being so calm about it. Mary thought back to when she had first discovered that her friend had been attacked in her own home. The news itself had enraged her, but Rhys' tears had terrified her.

For all that they called each other best friends, Mary didn't know as much about Rhys as she would like. It had taken a year for their relationship to move past purely professional, and that only happened because of Mary's determination to befriend the only other girl her age who she hadn't grown up with. Rhys was reserved towards strangers, cordial to acquaintances, and cautious with friends.

Tidbits of personal information were hard won, and each of them offered freely had felt like a gift to Mary, who tended to expose her entire life story to anyone who she felt comfortable with in the first five minutes of her knowing them.

In all the time that Mary had known Rhys, she had seen her cry only twice before, both times when she had been missing her family. To see her weeping because of the actions of a cruel stranger had shaken Mary to her core. Helplessness was not a feeling that Kirston's often had to deal with, and Mary hated it with a passion.

"They don't know who did it," Rhys continued, her back very straight, "but the letter that accompanied it made it very clear as to what the motive was."

As she spoke, Ben's face grew darker and darker, but he showed none of the surprise that Mary had the first time she had heard.

"Has it happened again?" He asked quietly. Rhys shook her head. He relaxed slightly, but his face didn't change. Mary sucked on the inside of her lip, worrying at the skin with her teeth.

"Maybe we should sit down?" She suggested hesitantly. After a long moment of staring at each other, Ben and Rhys nodded, and they all filed into the back room, Rhys hanging back to turn the door sign to 'closed.' Mary took the armchair, leaving the couch to the others, and as they sat down, the stretch between them suddenly seeming much larger than before.

"Why don't you seem surprised?" Was the first question out of Mary's mouth. She had been shocked when she first heard, the sheer unexpectedness of it like a bucket of ice-water over her head.

"It's a story that I've heard before," Ben responded, gazing down at his clasped hands.

"That we both have," Rhys interjected quietly. Ben nodded.

"Every so often you hear about magic users, like Rhys, who have had things like this happen to them. Mostly it's small, and mostly it happens in places like Milvern and Hesgan, where the largest part of the Purging took place, but..." He shrugged helplessly.

"Why?" Mary asked. "That doesn't make any sense! The Purging was almost a century ago - Folders and Storm Seers and Healers and the like have been unpersecuted for decades."

"Probably that is why," Rhys said grimly. "We've gotten ourselves established. Many of us are considered pillars of our communities, gaining in wealth and status. That kind of thing scares people."

Ben nodded, rubbing one hand along his chin. "It's quiet right now, but it's getting louder. These last few years... You never said anything in your letters, so I hoped that you were free of it up here. I should have known."

"Wait," Rhys stiffened, turning sharply to look at him. "My parents, they haven't-"

"Nothing has happened to them directly," Ben reassured her, taking her hand and squeezing it. "But they've been hearing things. They don't talk about it too much, but... they're worried."

"That's ridiculous," Mary said, furious. "Why would anyone - are people really going after magic users for - what? Making a living?"

"Making a living in a way that no-one else can," Rhys corrected. "It's jealousy and fear, wrapped up in a helpful blanket of prejudice. We're useful without being dangerous, so we weren't killed off like the trained mages were, but we're close enough that any remaining 'magic is an abomination' sentiment still gets plastered on us."

"Which makes things worse," Ben added, "because it means that, if enough people feel that way, they can turn it into a cause, or a crusade. The Purging, act two."

Afternoon sunlight was streaming through the window, orange-gold and gorgeously warm, but Mary felt ice-cold.

"It won't really come to that, will it?" Her voice sounded tiny, even to her. Ben and Rhys glanced at each other, then at her. It wasn't reassuring.

"Probably not. Like I said, we're useful. But things like this have happened throughout history," Rhys lifted her chin, eyes distant. "Our people are revered, then reviled, then shoved away somewhere in a corner where we can be ignored for a while, and then the whole cycle begins all over again. I grew up on stories about our history, and few of them are nice."

"Which means that I grew up on them, too, because you'd always repeat them to me the next day," Ben teased softly. "Thanks for the nightmares, by the way." Rhys kicked at his foot, gentle.

Watching them, Mary was struck with the painful realization of exactly how sheltered she was. Growing up in luxury, shielded from the worst of the world by overprotective parents, her life had never allowed her to venture beyond the boundaries of Kirston. Things that to her seemed unimaginable horrors were depressing but unavoidable facts of life to Rhys and Ben.

"I don't know how you can bear it," Mary whispered. Two sets of perplexed eyes turned her way. "Knowing that people want to hurt you for who you are."

"There's nothing else to be done," Rhys said simply. Ben wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "At least I have the ability to make myself a truly excellent hiding place."

"You shouldn't have to!" Mary said, insides constricting as she imagined Rhys curled up somewhere dark and cramped, trapped and afraid and hunted.

"We know that," Ben told her, and she deflated. Of course they knew that, they knew it more intimately than she ever could. "It is nice, though," He continued, smiling warmly, "To know that Rhys has such a passionate and terrifying friend looking out for her."

"I don't feel very terrifying right now," Mary admitted. "And besides, what would I do, flirt my enemies into submission?" Rhys snorted loudly, covering her mouth with one hand in surprise. "Somehow I don't see that working."

"Well, I'd like to see that," Rhys said, eyes sparkling behind her hand. "Can you imagine?"

Mary couldn't help it; she giggled, which set Rhys off, which made Ben join in. The three of them sat there, shoulders shaking, laughter feeding off one another, the stress of their previous conversation heightening their hilarity.

Eventually, their laughter petered out, and Mary looked out of the window at the approaching evening.

"I should go," She murmured.

"We'll see you out," Rhys stood, Ben following suit. They were quiet as they filed out towards the door. Mary picked up her dress box.

"I'm glad you're here, Ben," She said. "I know Rhys can take care of herself, but..." Ben nodded in understanding, and she smiled at him. "And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Only a little," he shrugged good-naturedly. "When you wanted me to help you kill your mother."

Mary cackled a little. "Just you wait until you meet her, you'll be begging me for the chance to put her six feet under."

"I certainly wouldn't mind," agreed Rhys. "Now go on, before she sends out a search party."

"Take care of yourselves," Mary said, suddenly desperate. "I mean it."

"We will, you crazy bint," Rhys said affectionately. "Now go, already!"

Impulsively, Mary pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, then followed it up with one to Ben's.

"I'll be back," She threatened. "So don't do anything stupid without me."

"Go!" Rhys laughed, pointing at the door. She went, pushing out into the cool evening air, just as worried as she had been before, but that much lighter from seeing her friends.