Eluvie steeled herself for the transformation. For several moments, she hesitated. She could remain in this form and they would never know if she was awake. Well, Amu might know, but he would not be certain. Perhaps, in their uncertainty, they would leave her alone.

She pondered the possibility for so long that she thought she might never make a decision. But eventually, she did. Amu already knew that she was awake. Waiting would only tempt them to take a course she couldn’t predict.

With the decision made, she grew concerned that she would not be able to transform, but the worry proved unfounded. With barely a thought, she had a human body again, and a set of perfectly-formed wings. She rose from the clinic floor and tested her wings. Then, she tested her arms and legs. Everything seemed in good condition. She wondered if she should have tried to transform into a child. Could she have done that?

She strained for a moment, imagining herself as a child. When she opened her eyes from the strain, she was shorter. The examination bed was now barely at her eye level. She wished for a mirror so that she could examine herself but had to settle for looking down at herself.

After a moment, she returned to her adult form. She had looked small enough to be a child, but she had not felt like one. Taking that form meant pretending to be stupider than she was, and she would have enough trouble simply pretending not to remember them.

She looked around the room for some clothing but found nothing. There wasn’t even a bedsheet to use. So she went to the door, partially opened it, and stuck her head through the opening. As expected, the guards outside it snapped to attention.

“I need clothing,” she said.

They gaped.

She stared back at them.

“Clothing,” she said slowly. “To wear.”

They continued staring with their mouths slightly open.

Eluvie frowned. Her revival should not be that surprising. She was about to demand their shirts when they seemed to recover.

One of them turned to his fellow. “Fetch Lady Mirab,” he said. “And I… uh… tell someone to bring clothing.”

As the other guard ran off, Eluvie went back into the room and shut the door.

While she waited, she examined the room. It was small and cluttered. Two walls were covered with shelves holding bottles, jars, and utensils. The third held the wooden bench on which her attendants usually sat, while the last wall had the door. The bed was centrally located. There was enough room around it to maneuver, but just enough. Everything looked old and worn, but clean. She found a row of blades on one of the shelves - doubtless the ones Amu used on her. She fingered them for a moment and then turned away. She felt nauseous.

With nothing else to do, she turned her attention to the tendril she had left in Lady Mirab’s room. She could see Mirab still seated on her bed, staring into space with a strained expression. Eluvie felt strength. They had watched her for years and now she could learn the secrets they kept from her.

She pulled her attention from the tendril and returned to her body, and found herself lying flat on the ground.

A spot in her head throbbed, as if she’d knocked it against the ground, and one arm was tucked beneath her unnaturally. She hissed against the pain as she pulled herself upright.

"Stupid," she muttered. She could not control the other tendril while focusing on this body, so it stood to reason that she could not control this body while focused on the tendril. That was a complication. She had grand plans of splitting herself into many different parts and forming a surveillance system around the palace. But the utility of that would be limited by her ability to control them all.

The door opened and she froze. Amu’s head came through and stopped before the rest of his body could follow. His gaze met hers and his eyes took on the same confused expression the guards had worn.

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"Uh," he said, "who are you?"

Eluvie frowned and looked down at herself. Was she the wrong color?

She caught herself a moment later, as she recalled the dangerous situation she was in. She had to keep the fact that she remembered them a secret and do so without telling a lie to the wrong person.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He seemed to finally notice that she was naked. He shot out an apology, then retreated back through the door. Seconds passed, then minutes. Finally, he returned and stuck his hand through the doorway, holding out a towel.

With growing irritation, Eluvie wrapped the towel around herself.

"You look different," Amu said, coming into the room moments later.

Eluvie inspected him properly for the first time in years. His looks mostly matched her impression of him. He was slightly taller than she was, and thicker too. His hair had spots of gray amidst the dark brown. That was odd, since he did not look old enough for it.

"My name is Amu," he said, putting on a smile. "I am a doctor here."

The smile suffused his voice, but his eyes looked tired.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

The question irritated her. He asked it so often before he performed whatever indignities his employers demanded. So, hearing it only reminded her of how little freedom she still had.

"Where am I?" she asked.

Amu crossed the room and picked up the bowl Eluvie had previously been in. "This is the Thousand-Room Palace," he said. "It is the home of Lady Mirab, Ruler of the eastern front of the alliance. Do you recall any of that?"

Eluvie ignored that question too. "People are coming," she said.

Specifically, her attendants were coming. She could recognize their footsteps from the end of the hallway.

Amu waited, his face forming a frown when no one immediately entered. She ignored him and began walking around the room again.

"Would you let me examine you?" Amu asked.

"No," Eluvie replied.

Inside, she cursed herself. She was supposed to treat him like a stranger, not the loathsome captor she knew him to be.

Thankfully, the door opened before he could come up with a response, and all four of her attendants came in.Madam Ria was not with them. Instead, Bitu led the group with a fake smile.

“Good morning, Miss,” she said. “It is good to see you awake.”

The new attendant stepped forward and held out a tray with a folded yellow piece of clothing on it.

Eluvie turned her gaze from the women. As she tried to settle her churning insides, she picked up the cloth. It unfolded into a soft, silky gown, threaded with beads and jewels. Her face instinctively formed a frown at it. The color was uneven. The lower half of the dress was a lighter yellow than the upper, and there were definite splotches of uneven color. Both imperfections were probably invisible to most people, but her eyes immediately found them. The stitches were too large and uneven, and the cloth was certainly stiffer than it should have been.

She pulled the cloth closer to her face and sniffed it. There was one good thing, at least; it smelled of soap, and not ‘damp cupboard’.

She put the dress onto the bed and picked up another article from the tray. This one was a plain white shift edged with lace and covered in embroidery. Every bit of the design was tasteless. It was not meant to be seen, of course, but the thought of letting it touch her body made her itch. Mildly, she wondered what was wrong with her. When did she become an expert seamstress? And why did tiny imperfections bother her?

As she put the shift back on the tray, another attendant stepped forward to display her tray of jewelry. Everything looked expensive. But why would she wear diamond hairpins paired with diamond necklaces paired with a diamond-studded dress? It would blind everyone who saw her.

She retrieved the yellow gown from the bed, holding it between two fingers like a stained rag, and dropped it back onto the tray.

“I won’t wear that,” she said. “Bring me something else.”

Everyone stared at her, and she stared right back at them.

“I refuse to wear that travesty,” she said. “If you have nothing better, provide me with a plain white sheet and I will make do. In fact -”

Instinct drove her, and she obeyed its prompting. She focused for a moment and felt her skin change. A dress appeared on her, expertly crafted in a dark, even green, and without a single jewel in sight. Her hair braided itself into an upswept pattern adorned with a pair of golden pearls.

She stepped out of the towel she had been wearing while her watchers stared in alarm.

“They’re not real,” she said. The knowledge came to her, just as the process had. “I just transformed my real body into clothing in the same way I transform it into flesh and bone.”

She held the towel out to Amu.

He oriented himself with a shake of his head, accepted the towel, and pasted a smile onto his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but a new arrival interrupted him: Lady Mirab.