Hearing his agreement about Errol eased some of the fire in her eyes. She remembered, then, the pain he'd shown when she first asked if he'd hurt him. He had, at that -- and that pain he'd shown...
Her sister Grace was forever telling her that she forgave too easily, that she could dismiss any wrong as long as she was given half a reason, and that she was far too kind for her own good. Beauty wondered what Grace would say, were she in the same position now. The corner of her mouth twitched when she looked down at the tea. Grace would not have made tea for Errol's murderer.
"Resigned?" she echoed. "I'm glad to be here. If you were to tell me that I was to return to France, 1762 -- well, 1767, I..." The thought stirred panic. She loved her family, but she'd seen down her own family lines and knew just where they ended. There were no Bellafortes in the 21st century, at least, none that could be traced. She'd made her own life here. If she had to leave now...
Beauty shook her head again. "The weather here is never too hot or too cold. There are never any storms, except when something happens with the City itself. There are very many strange things, it's true... but I've come to understand that they're there for our entertainment, not to harm us."
She paused, then added gently, "You're free here."