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Instantly, you realize that you are going to need to give some sort of explanation. Even if you are required to – no, especially because you are not required to. Someone who had something to hide would raise that point. If this is going to work, you are going to need to explain yourself – which you already did with Bronwen. But more than that, you are going to need to play it indignant and frustrated. Somehow you just know that is going to be the only way you are going to be able to sell this.
“… The same way every girl gets their money, from their fathers. But that is not the issue here, not really. No, what you ‘supposedly’ cannot wrap your head around is how someone like me can have a father wealthy enough to afford a dress like that. It is obvious, the answer is painfully obvious, but you are going to sit here and make me say it. My father was not able to marry my mother.”
You let that settle in for a second, while you take the opportunity to read the room. You clearly have caught Cassandra off guard with your outburst, and the second she looks as if she is going to try to say something, you cut her off.
“I know what I am. And if I was ever somehow able to forget, I could always count on people like you to be there to remind me. So thanks, thanks for that! I really appreciate it, as my life was not difficult enough already, with the whole being born in a state of sin thing, and me and mother having to work as maids for father otherwise we’d never be able to see him, much less have him in our lives.”
Oddly enough, you find yourself genuinely getting worked up over this. You are not sure why exactly, but you suppose that this emotion is only going to help you sell your story. When Cassandra once again looks like she is going to interrupt, once again you speak over her.
“But he wants me and mother around, and he keeps us around, in spite of the risk to his reputation, because I am not some fraying drawing room indiscretion – I am his daughter and he loves me, and I am sick and tired of having to hide it as if that love, and by extension my existence was some sort of crime!”
You take a ragged breath, and realize to your surprise that your eyes are starting to tear up. Is you being effected by your story or your Hide-Eyes glyph? In the brief moment that you are thinking about this, Cassandra, who is looking deeply uncomfortable at your outburst, finally manages to get a word in edgewise.
“My dear, please just sit down, and –”
“You sit down!”
She was already sitting down.
Undaunted, you continue.
