Petite hands, the color of ivory porcelain, grasped the heavy curtains that separated the main of the tavern from a small room in the back. The cloth was heavy between her fingers, the weight of what she meant to do weighing more. She opened the curtains enough to slip through.
Her gray cloak was unnecessary, floor length and made of a sturdy woven cloth, it had grown uncomfortably warm beneath the layer. Thick auburn curls were pinned back beneath her hood, a strand or two having fallen out of place. She had waited in this room for hours it seemed. She had been sure a dark, shadowy figure would enter to fulfill her needs, but it was for naught. Her green eyes sparkling with anxiety and frustration, she made way for the bar. Perhaps a drink would quench her soul.
Beneath her cloak, Sephana fumbled with a large coin purse. It held several coins of gold, large and heavy pieces, as well as some other metals. A few silvers, even coppers should she require them. She prayed it would be enough, for her mother needed an executioner.
Taking out a few coppers she called for a maid, trying to avoid the other patrons in this part of the inn. "A wine, barmaid, please." Her shapeless figure would attract little of the wrong type of attention age hoped.
