Dorcas Night had everything.
She was beautiful. Slim but still womanly, and her long, shiny red hair was the envy of every witch in the Church of Night. Her pale skin was unmarred unlike most of the Academy's permanent residents. Most had scores of scars across their back from punishments, but not her.
That's because Dorcas Night was smart.
She was top of her class in herbalism, the best the academy had in years. She was still praised for her revival of the old Academy greenhouse that had been empty for decades. Her poultices could soothe even the worst pain, and her salves could fade the darkest scars. She only used them on herself... and her sisters.
That's because Dorcas Night had a family.
She had two sisters, and if things were going well with the half-breed she might soon have a third. One sister was more than most orphans ever get, let alone two. She could crawl into their beds and be warm for the night. The blankets they had were always too thin. If that wasn't enough she always had some paramour she could run into the arms of.
That was because Dorcas Night had everything.
As Elspeth pushed Melvin up against the Academy walls, she couldn't help but be glad that Dorcas Night was dead.
