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"Vanilla," she said instantly, scent and 'sense telling her true. She could feel the faint tug of it below her ribs, almost imperceptible—a gentle essence, not a powerful one. "A Nariguan strain."
"A scent-maker must know the moments of their client's life, must know what scents define them."
I thought Yut would be glad to see me gone, a respite from my vigilance. Instead she fusses over my departure and sends along one of her owls to see me off. The shadow bird is surprisingly soft, weightless on my shoulder and affectionate, nudging my chin with its burred head. It dissipates before we reach the gate, the limit of Yut's sending.
I thought Yut would be glad to see me gone, a respite from my vigilance.
From the Archives:
The knight glanced up at the tessellated sky, clear blue behind the shifting leaves, and did not answer.