Three and a half months.
Three and a half months since she had been dragged back to what was once her home, since she had packed what few things she needed and walked back out the front door, since Della had chased after her with soft words and offered salvation, since she had come to live with the cook who had helped raise her and her family, since she had begun what had started to feel like a never-ending quest to return her husband to where he belonged.
Three and a half months. She had changed, she knew she had. She was thinner in some places and thicker in others. She no longer wore the fine dresses and silken shoes of her girlhood but rather simply hand-me-downs she had helped Della or Mia tailor to fit her changing body. She was paler too, from overwork and frequent time indoors, but she hardly seemed to notice-- and a new scar peeked just above the neckline of her woolen dress, over her left collar, over her heart, though mostly it was hidden from view.
Tessa didn't seem to care as she marched down the street, men and women in armor to either side of her. She had the law on her side now, she knew, but if it came down to it she was more than ready for war.
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From the day she'd stepped foot back in Ketra she hadn't stopped working, racing from one end of the city to the other, often with Mia in tow, to visit one magistrate or another and plead her case.
Tobias was not a slave, there was no legal right for him to be sold as property. Yes, we were married-- that is the basis of my case. Slaves do not have marriage rights, and because I was the one who completed the transaction, but marrying him I tacitly made him a free man in the eyes of the law. Yes, I bought him.
A bad taste in her mouth.
My case has precedent, as you can see in the similar cases I have highlighted in these documents. No, I am not a lawyer, but I have spent a great deal of time dealing with legal matters in Erik Varrys's estate, training under the merchant class. I understand the case is unusual... Even if you do not accept my first premise, then simply by the fact that I was the one who purchased Tobias Slate's labor means that Erik Varrys had no right to enter a new transaction...
He's my husband. He's not a slave. He's not a monster-- yes, he is a werewolf-- no, he is not dangerous-- please, just listen!
The door would close behind her, the magistrate's words echoing in her head as he or she told her someone else she could visit, someone who might be more willing to take her case, or more familiar with that aspect of Adelan law. And she would go where they sent her, and it all would begin again.
Throughout the day she would receive calling cards, some from business associates of her father whom she had reached out to for legal advice, but most from the socialites of Ketra who had heard about her "family misfortune". She ignored them all, sympathizers and attackers alike.
Poor thing.
Such a shame.
Painted little whore.
Her poor parents.
The dog's bitch.
No time for that, no room in her mind to think on it. None of it mattered, all that mattered was getting Toby back.
There were nearly two months of this before Della sat her down and told her she had some suspicions. Tessa hadn't been eating or sleeping well, she was starting to get ill so frequently, but it was more than that.
A mother four times over, the older woman took Tessa's hands in hers and looked into her eyes when she asked how long it had been since she'd bled. When it took a few moments for Tessa to think about it, trying to calculate past all the legal jargon and cases of precedent that seemed to have taken up all the space in her mind-- if she only thought about that she couldn't think about how much she missed him, how she worried, what they might be doing to him...-- Della sighed and took her to a local healer, who confirmed the cooks' worries.
Tessa was pregnant.
"Doesn't matter," the young woman said as she left the healer's house on Della's arm. "I mean-- it does, of course it does, but this just means I have to work faster. I can't let this...I can't let the baby get here without Toby. I can't. I won't."
Nothing Della told her about how she needed rest would sway her. She threw herself back into her work with renewed vehemence. Almost every day she visited a new magistrate, sometimes going back three or fours times to one who seemed even remotely sympathetic.
Slowly, her belly began to fill out, just a bit, just the tiniest bump that pressed against her bodice. But the skin around her ribs and collar bones grew thinner, drained of color, deep, dark circles now permanently etched beneath her eyes. She suffered fainting spells throughout the day, but did her best to keep them hidden from Della and her family.
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But it was worth it. It was all worth it, because she was being escorted to Striker's estate just outside the city proper by a squadron of city guards, official orders for the release of one Tobias Slate, notarized and signed by no less than six different Ketra magistrates clutched in her hands.
Tessa's breath caught as she was escorted up to the door, feeling a little wobbly on her feet. But hope and righteous rage buoyed her up, gave her strength as one of the guards wrapped soundly on Striker's door and demanded, "Open in the name of the law!"
In the name of the law. Every legal twist and loophole she'd managed to tug or exploit come to call. Her hands tightened on the orders of release, eyes glinting silver, cold as ice and sharp as steel.