She'd been spending her time holed up in the locksmith shop. It turned out nobody needed her much, which suited Phaedra just fine.
Because the sunlight was still an issue.
The locksmith shop proper was below her rooms, and just off the town square. She somehow had a reputation for good work, though she'd not done any here yet, and she did actually spend time making some keys and picking locks in her shop, just to keep her skills going.
It made her think of her camp, and her family. Her father had forged weapons, but she'd learned a thing or two from other gypsies in the tribe, too. She could pick locks before she'd gained any preternatural power, and making keys was easy. They were just smaller pieces of metal than the swords and daggers, and as a bonus there was much less hammering needed. These keys were large and heavy and not machine-made, just as they'd been in her time.
Phaedra kept to herself, until the invitation to the ball arrived.
She did not much want to go, but she also knew that keeping to herself made her humanity shrink back from the surface, which was not something she wanted. She did not want to be more of a predator to anyone here than they already thought she was.
And she would be.
Unfortunately, this meant wearing a dress.
But if you were going to skate on thin ice.... you might as well dance.
Phaedra arrived with her hair in ringlets that hung in her face, a jewel at her throat (just one) and a breathtaking red gown.